


Sing to the Sky {31 Days Of Peter Parker Whump}

by MagicaLyss



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 31 days of whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapped, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sadness, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 77,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: A new chapter of Whump for every day of DecemberProbably way too many soft hospital scenesProbably gory at timesPeter Parker has really bad luck whoops





	1. 1-Hypothermia

Peter Parker was unbelievably excited. It's finally winter break and Tony Stark had agreed to take Peter on a trip up to Quebec to go skiing. 

May was going to see her extended family out in Italy and the two of them were going to meet up again just a few days before Christmas back home. 

So on the way to Quebec, Peter was practically bouncing off the walls. 

When they finally arrive at the hills a few hours later, Peter bundles himself up. A heavy winter jacket, on brand, courtesy of Tony Stark. A tuque covering his curls, cute little red mittens, and Spider-Man themed skis. 

*

Peter was great at skiing. 

No one really expected any different. I mean, what can't he do?

But he was really good, and before long, he had moved up to the more difficult ski hills with Tony, who was good too, but not as good.

"Race you to the bottom!" Peter shrieks, immediately pushing off down the hill. His spidey-sense is probably an unfair advantage at this point, avoiding trees and roots under the grass. But Tony had more experience and was better at distributing his weight.

Soon, Tony was flying past Peter, grinning wildly at his kid. 

The scenery flies by in shades of white, green, and brown, as he pushes himself faster. Faster. 

And then a scream echoes through the air.

Peter stumbles, skis pulling in the wrong direction, falling forward. 

Blood. His hands are bleeding from where he caught himself on the tree, bark cutting into his palms.

Tony's already stopped, more gracefully than Peter could've hoped for himself, and staring up at Peter.

The younger hero, rips off his skis and starts running through the snow in his socks. 

The cold nips at his toes and cheeks as he runs, but only one thought hits him. He's gotta save them. Whoever's in trouble, he's gotta save them. No matter what. 

It takes a few minutes, but he finally finds the source of the scream. 

There's a big, circular lake, probably the size of a soccer field. It's covered in what appears to be thick ice from the Canadian winter. 

2 adults stand off to the side, tears flooding down both their faces. The woman is shaking, not wearing a jacket, blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, little tendrils curling down her rosy cheeks. She sees me first. 

She tugs on her husband's sleeve who waves me over. He's got ginger hair, a mustache, looking kind of like a friendly lumberjack.

The real issue is when Peter catches sight of the two other people in the area. 

Children. Probably 10 years old and 6 years old by the looks of it. In the center of the lake. 

Ice cracking beneath their feet. 

"My babies!" the woman wails when Peter reaches them. "They can't move or the ice will crack. You've gotta save my babies!" 

"Calm down, Lydia. Take a deep breath. They'll be perfectly fine. I promise," the man reassures. He turns to Peter. "Is there anyway you can get across and get them to safety? We'd be too heavy and break the ice."

He nods quickly, but then Tony stumbles into the scene. "No. There's no way in hell- Peter, listen. We've gotta call for help. You know you can't handle the cold like that."

"There's no time. I can do this. I can't just leave them there," the younger says. "I know what I'm doing, Mister Stark. I swear."

Tony lifts his eyes to the sky, snow falling lightly around them and sighs. "I hate you, you know that?"

A smile crosses the teenager's face. "I know! But I know physics. I know how to do this. I can't leave those kids out there."

Tony nods, sighing again. "Be safe. Turn back if you can't do it. Your aunt would kill me if she finds out."

Peter quickly hugs Tony, not even giving him a chance to hug him back before he's turning back towards the lake.

"I can do this. You can do this. It's okay," Peter mumbles to himself, carefully lowering himself to the ground. The ice bites into his hands and feet, but he pushes himself forward, carefully crawling along the surface. 

It doesn't take as long as he thought, the ice mostly staying together, little cracks spreading through the surface but not enough to fall from under him. He can feel the 5 pairs of eyes watching him slowly slither along the surface. 

"Hey," he calls out softly once he gets close to the kids. "I'm Peter. What's your names?"

"Tyler," the little boy says. He's obviously the younger of the two. Soft red curls peaking out from under his Iron Man tuque. 

"Sophia," the girl says. She's standing almost protectively in front of her little brother, a determined look on her face. 

"I just talked to your parents and I'm going to get you back to them, okay?" the teenager says, giving them a reassuring smile. 

They both nod, relaxing easily. Peter's got a pretty trustworthy appearance. 

"Tyler, kid, you're going to go first, okay? And then your sister's going to follow. Lie down like how I was and I'm going to push you."

Tyler does as asked, spreading his weight out like a starfish. More cracks spread out underneath his body and Peter knows he has to hurry if they're all going to make it out. 

Peter holds onto Tyler's snow boots, pulling himself onto his knees so he can use more of his strength. 

"If you don't get all the way to the end, slither like a snake the rest of the way to your parents, okay?"

Tyler's back shudders with a held in sob.

"Tyler, you like Iron Man, right?" Peter asks, knowing he can't delay forever. "Iron Man is right over there. You see him?"

Before Tyler has the chance to respond, Peter uses a good portion of his diminishing strength to push the kid's boots. Tyler goes sliding across the ice, right to where his parents catch him. 

Peter knows that someone's going to have to explain Peter's strength to the parents, but currently there's more cracks along the surface, deeper ones as Sophia moves down to her stomach as well.

Peter sighs heavily, making his acceptances. Nobody's behind him to push him to safety. He's not going to get to the other side fast enough. 

He does the same thing with Sophia, calming her down as well, though it's less important because all she wants is to get to her little brother. 

"Go. Do it. The ice is breaking," she says, voice high and scared. 

Peter does the same for Sophia, pushing her across the ice. This time she barely makes it and Peter's already trembling, cold seeping into him through his hands and feet.

"Peter! C'mon!" Tony shouts from the shore, waving towards where the teenager is, watching the ice crack under his knees.

He's not going to make it, but he might as well try. 

He pushes himself onto his stomach again, crawling back towards where Tony and the family are waiting in anticipation, but saving the kids, being in the cold, it's taking a toll on him.

And it's going to be the death of him. 

One wrong movement and suddenly the ice cracks, earsplitting crack, and then cold.

Peter doesn't know what's happening, all he knows is the cold that's in his bones and in his lungs. 

Peter!

It's a strangled scream of sorts and sounds like he's hearing it from underwater. 

Underwater!

The realization makes him breathe out through his nose quickly, trying to expel the water he knows he's already inhaled and kicking his leaden legs to get back to the surface.

As soon as he hits the surface, fingers scrambling for purchase on the ice, heavy jacket weighing him down, he heaves for air, coughing up the water. Tears burning his eyes, as he chokes on the water. 

His whole body is trembling, but he knows he has to keep going. He has to get his body out of the water, has to get to shore, has to get to Tony. Whatever he does. 

It takes too long. Way too long, to get himself out from under the water and the world is spinning around him. 

He heaves again, coughing up the water, breaths burning his lungs. 

"Peter! Come on! You can do it!" Tony is shouting from the shore, and Peter lifts his heavy head to see how far the shore is. 

"You can do it. You can do it. Come on. You can do it," he mumbles to himself, words getting caught in his throat and he begins to crawl, fumbling with his shaking, unwilling fingers. 

And before he knows it, there's arms around his shoulders, pulling him up to his heavy legs.

"T'ny?" Peter slurs, leaning heavily against the warm body. 

"You have to get those off him. Being in those wet clothes will only keep him cold. Is your car far from here?" Another voice says.

Peter's ears are ringing too much to fully comprehend the rest of the conversation. His coat his tugged off his shoulders, the wind biting into his skin, but arms are wrapped around his shoulders, holding him into another's chest. 

"'wanna go home," Peter says, coughing on the words and knees trembling beneath him, barely able to hold himself up. 

"I know, kid. I know. I'm so sorry. We'll get you back to the compound soon, okay?"

Peter tries to nod, but he can't seem to lift his head up after letting it fall forwards. 

He spaces out again, feeling his body get light as he's lifted into someone's arms. Not Tony, but his spider-senses don't scream danger. 

"Peter? Can you hear me? We need to get your clothes off, okay?" Peter hears. He thinks it's Tony but his ears are still ringing. 

"Mm... Mis'er S...S'ar'?" Peter slurs, desperately trying to get his eyes to open. 

It takes too much of his wasted energy, but soon he can see the world around him. They're at the car. He's being passed to Tony who's already in the car. The dad having helped carry Peter all the way back to the car. 

He's still trembling, badly. All he can feel is cold. 

"'m cold," he mumbles, pulling at his soaked shirt with numb, shaking fingers. 

"I know. I know. Take a deep breath for me, Pete. You need to breathe," Tony says, placing his hands on Peter's shoulders. 

Tony helps pull off Peter's shirt, switching it for one of Tony's old ones in the backseat. It's already making improvements, but Peter's lips are turning blue, eyes glazed over as he fumbles with his jeans. 

"Cold," he repeats, unable to close his fingers enough to undo the button. 

"Hold on a second, kid. I've gotta find you some new pants to put on. Wait," Tony says, grabbing the teen's fingers as he searches through their backpack they packed for the trip. Finally, he finds Peter's pair of hello kitty pajama pants. 

Tony quickly helps Peter change into the pajama pants, fear running through his veins. Peter's so far out of it. 

Peter fumbles with Tony's jacket, opening it up just enough to slip his body into the front of it, leaving Tony in it too. 

Tony pulls the kid closer to him, pulling him onto his lap, wrapping the teen tightly. 

But the kid doesn't stop trembling, lips a light shade of blue, skin a sheet white color.

Peter lifts his head up, just a little bit. "Mis... Mis'er S'ark?"

"I'm right here, kid. I've got you. Calm down. You're okay," Tony reassures, carding his fingers through Peter's wet curls. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak, ending up coughing again. It takes a moment to control himself again, but when he does, he looks even more confused. 

"'We at the tower? 'm cold?" Peter says, eyes unseeing as they slowly move around the car. "Why... why am I cold?"

Tony shakes his head, pulling the kids body tighter against his chest, continuing to card his fingers through his hair. 

"'M tired, Mis'er... Mis'er S'ar. 'M tired," Peter slurs, clumsily fumbling for Tony's shirt.

"We're almost there. Try to keep him awake," another voice says from the front seat. Peter's too tired, too confused to try to figure out who it is or where they're going. 

Peter's still shivering miserably, and Tony pulls away to tug the jacket off his shoulders and then his shirt off too, hoping the soft heat from the arc reactor plus his body heat will keep Peter warmer until they make it to the hospital. He pulls the jacket tight around Peter's shoulders, pulling Peter's small body back into his chest.

"I've got you, Peter. You're okay. You're going to be just fine. I've got you. Breathe, Petey," Tony murmurs, hugging him close. 

Finally, they arrive at the hospital, Peter barely on the brink of consciousness. 

"No, no, no. Peter, keep those eyes open. You can't pass out now," Tony begs as Peter struggles to keep himself awake. 

"'M sorry," Peter mumbles, and finally allows himself to let go.

*

When Peter comes to, he feels warm and safe. 

Unfamiliar room, but familiar arms wrapped around his back and shoulders. 

He shifts a little bit, curling tighter against Tony's body in the hospital bed. 

"You awake?" Tony murmurs, pressing a kiss to the kid's temple. 

"Yeah... Are they okay? Tyler and Sophia, are they okay?"

Tony huffs out a small laugh. "You're in a hospital bed, after getting real close to dying, and all you care about is whether the kids are okay? Yeah... They were perfectly fine. Not even a single bruise on them. You saved their lives."

Peter sighs in relief, relaxing against Tony's warmth even more. 

"The parents told me to thank you about a thousand times for saving their kids. You're so stupidly selfless... I love you, kid. You know that?" 

"Love you too, Mister Stark."

____  
This is also posted on Wattpad (my other works are all on wattpad as well)  
Lyss :)


	2. 2-Ned

Peter had been feeling a little bit off. 

And by a little bit off, he means awful. Dreadful. Dead on his feet.

Ned knew something was utterly wrong from the moment Peter stumbled into school Wednesday morning. 

The older of the two, Ned, sighed when he saw his best friend. 

"What are you doing?" He demands, stalking over to Peter's locker. 

"What do y'mean?" Peter says, eyes glazed and red-rimmed as he looks over at Ned. 

"You look awful. Did something happen on patrol?"

"Didn't go on patrol. Fell asleep."

"You fell asleep? Before patrol?" Ned says. This definitely means something's wrong. Really wrong. Peter never skips Patrol.

"Yeah... Didn't mean to. Was just tired. Class?" Peter says, trying to force energy into his body. 

It doesn't work though and Ned takes his books from him to lessen the weight of his friend's arms, enough that it doesn't drag him to the floor. 

*

Ned keeps a careful eye on Peter as the day progresses. And Peter seems to just be getting worse and worse. 

He's gone from sheet white to a slightly greenish gray color. He can't seem to focus on anything, eyes glazed and looking through everything. Slurring through the sentences he manages to get out of his throat. Sometimes sweating, sometimes shivering. Almost falling asleep in class. Coughing. 

Ned would've guessed a really bad case of flu, but Spider-Man can't get sick, right?

So he does the only logical thing he can think of. Pickpocket Peter and call Tony Stark during break between classes while MJ's watching over Peter. 

"What's up, kid? Calculus problems?" Tony teases upon answering the phone. 

"Actually, it's Ned. Ned Leeds. Peter's best friend?" He offers, voice dropping a little as people walk by. 

"Oh. Is Peter okay? Is everything alright?" Tony says, the music on the other side turning off as he focuses his attention on the phone call. 

"I didn't think it was possible for him to get sick, but he seems really sick. Like the flu? I'm not sure. He's really out of it. He skipped patrol last night to sleep. I tried convincing him to call May at lunch, but he was really adamant that she can't know because she's been working overtime since their rent went up at their apartment, and he doesn't want to bother her in that stupidly selfless way of his. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with him, but I'm not sure if he should still be at school. He's being really stubborn."

"Okay, slow down a second. What am I supposed to do about a sick teenager? I can't just steal him from school," Tony questions. 

"You're one of his emergency contacts," Ned responds. There's a tense beat of silence. "You didn't know... The teachers have been giving Peter a rough time lately about that. They were hassling May to put down a second emergency contact for Peter and because she's all he's got, she put down your contact. Nobody believed him. They've been trying to get him to give up his lie recently. That's why he's had so many detentions."

"I'll deal with all of that later. But even if I am legally allowed to take Peter out of school, I have no idea how to take care of a sick kid."

"I don't know. Figure it out. It can't be that hard. I'm just worried Peter's going to either pass out or throw up any minute now. Maybe both."

"Fine, Fine, Fine. I'm on my way."

*

Tony had no idea what he was doing. But apparently he's got no choice. So he marches into the front office of Midtown high. 

Eyes stare at him as he slips his sunglasses off his face and offers a winning smile. 

"I'm here to pick up Peter. Peter Parker," Tony announces, almost flinching at the echo of his voice through the room. 

The secretary doesn't stop staring at him as she pages for Peter to come to the office for pickup. 

It's a few awkward moments of silence as Tony pretends to be interested in the flyers on the bulletin board on one of the walls. 

Finally, Peter stumbles into the room. 

"Mister Stark?" He coughs heavily, hunching over himself. "You didn't have to come. I was okay to spend the rest of the day at school. Sorry Ned called you."

"He said he was scared you were either going to pass out or throw up," Tony deadpans, rolling his eyes before sliding his sunglasses back over his face. 

"Okay, well, yeah, I did both since lunch, but that's not the point. I have a Spanish quiz tomorrow that I was going to study for," Peter huffs, crossing his arms and wrinkling his nose. 

"You're coming home. Let's go, kid. Don't fight me on this one," Tony says, reaching an arm out for his kid. 

Peter huffs again, ducking over himself as he coughs, an awful rattling cough. He sighs once he's done, sipping at the water in his blue contigo bottle. 

He finally tumbled over miserably, pushing his shoulders underneath Tony's arm and letting his mentor lead him out of the room as the secretary stares after them. 

"You shouldn't have come to school at all, Kid," Tony reprimands. 

He nods a little bit, stumbling over his own feet and leaning even more heavily into his mentor's side. 

Tony pushes Peter into passenger, hoping into driver's seat and speeding off, leaving the school behind. 

*

Peter falls asleep on the ride, looking absolutely dreadful, but decently at peace in his sleep. 

It took a while, but Tony managed to carry him into the tower and lay him down in his bed. 

Tony didn't know what to do. Rhodey and Pepper were both very secretive with their sicknesses, never wanting to put their problems on Tony's shoulders even though they knew Tony wouldn't mind. And Tony was the same, he never told a soul when he was sick. 

So taking care of a sick kid is so far out of his comfort zone. 

So he does the only thing he knows how to do. He starts working on cough and cold medicine for his stupid, sick spider with the highest metabolism he's ever seen. 

He knows it won't be done soon enough to help Peter now, but Tony wants to be prepared if this ever happens again.

When Peter finally does wake up, hours later, he panics. 

He fumbles up to his feet, pushing the blanket off his legs and hurrying as best as he can towards the door. 

"Woah, woah, woah. Hold up there a second. Wait," Tony says, holding in his hands up in surrender as Peter spins around to face him. 

"I... Ive gotta go. May needs me home. And MJ wanted to study for Spanish with me and I have chores to do and I have Patrol and homework. I need to go," he slurs, stumbling into the door frame. 

"May knows you're here. She's still working anyways. You're sick. So you're taking a sick day," Tony says, taking Peter's arm gently and leading him back to the couch. 

Peter bursts into tears when he lands back on the couch and Tony's eyes widen as he takes an awkward step back. 

"Hey, hey, hey, kid. It's okay. Calm down. What's wrong?" Tony says, arms raised again in surrender. 

Peter grabs one of the throw pillows and curls his body around it, back trembling as his sobs come out as a wet cough instead. 

"Pete, kid, you've gotta help me out here. I can't guess what's wrong. What do you need?" The older of the two says in confusion as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Peter fumbles for a second before pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to Tony with shaking hands. 

"Ned-" Peter tries to say, coughing harder as he tries to speak. 

Tony's eyes widen and he finds Ned's contact easily, smiling at the dumb contact picture. 

"Hi? You feeling better yet?" Ned asks, sounding unsure. 

"I told you I didn't know what I was doing. He's crying and he can't seem to breathe right because he's coughing. I don't know what the hell I'm doing," I say, half turning away from Peter to focus on Ned's response. 

"I thought he grew out of that along time ago... Peter probably needs some physical attention, you know? Affection? He gets all weird and octopus. It happened a lot in middle school. He'd get all snuggly, you know? I thought he grew out of it, but I also thought he couldn't get sick," Ned explains. 

Tony frowns, sighing. "So what you're saying is he wants to cuddle?"

"Yes?" Ned says, voice high in confusion. "It's my best guess. He's probably hungry too. He didn't eat much at lunch and threw up afterwards anyways."

"Should I be calling May? Get her to figure this out?"

"No! No, absolutely not. I called you for a reason. He doesn't want May to know. He'd be so upset if you called her anyways. Just give him a hug, you know? It's not as thought it's hard. Put on a movie. Chicken noodle soup. You know, the whole sick party," Ned explains. "Good luck, but I've gotta go. My parents look really mad that I answered my phone during dinner. Call me if you need anything."

He hangs up before Tony can say another word. 

Peter mumbles something incoherently, curling himself tighter around the throw pillow. 

"Hey, kid. You wanna watch a movie? I'll get someone to bring us a nice big bowl of chicken noodle soup? Move over," Tony says, ignoring the worry rooted deep inside him in favor of the easy peace at taking care of his kid. 

Peter does as told, making some room at the end of the couch for Tony to sit. There's a few awkward moments of silence before Tony rests a hand on the teenager's shoulder. Peter immediately takes action and dives into Tony's awaiting arms, snuggling himself up against Tony's body. Sighing as the tears instantly cease. 

"Fri? Could you ask someone to come bring us some soup? I think Bruce is still in the tower somewhere," Tony says, smiling when Friday shuts down the room, darkening it and making it warmer. 

"Incredibles!" Peter murmurs, humming softly against Tony's chest. 

Friday immediately turns on the movie in front of them, the intro playing softly on the screen. 

Peter hums again, getting even more comfortable against Tony's chest and focusing on the screen. 

*

From there, Tony knows he's too far into the parental mindset that there's no going back. 

Peter stumbled up sometime, hours later, both of them having fallen to sleep after watching Incredibles, eating soup, and watching Incredibles 2. 

Tony immediately jolted awake, arms tightening around the kid's waist before letting him go entirely as Peter stood on shaky feet. 

"'M gonna throw up," he slurs in exhaustion. 

Tony wakes up entirely at those words, diving for the trash can somewhere nearby and passing it over to Peter as the teenager collapses onto his knees, shaking as he heaves into the garbage. 

"'M sorry," he coughs in between throwing up. 

Tony falls to his knees behind the kid, rubbing his back and pulling his overly long curls away from his face. 

"You're burning up. I'm going to have Bruce look over you in the morning. You're not supposed to be able to get sick at all," Tony says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Peter heaves again, back trembling beneath his mentor's hand. 

"'M sorry. 'M gross. It... It hurts," Peter garbles. 

"No, no, no. It's not your fault. You're not gross. Take deep breaths, kid. It's okay," Tony reassures, never stopping his calming movements on the kid's back and through his hair. 

Peter mumbles something incoherently, coughing up some bile, before he finally stills. 

"Thank you.. I'm sorry," he mumbles, sniffling quietly. 

He uses the sleeve of his oversized sweater to wipe his nose, rocking backwards on his knees and slumping against the couch from the floor. 

"Don't be sorry. This isn't on you. It's okay," Tony says, waving Dum-E over to take away the garbage.

Peter collapses into Tony's chest the moment the older wraps his arms around the teen's body.

*

When morning comes, Peter already feels a thousand times better. 

Tony doesn’t want to take any chances and forces Peter to stay at the tower another day and get looked over by Bruce. Who also gives Peter the Okay to go back to school, but Tony doesn’t care. He just wants another day of cuddles and movies from the kid, though he’d never admit it. 

____  
This is so hecking time consuming but I’ve already committed so it’s too late to turn back now lmao 

Lyss


	3. 3-Hostage

{I totally failed one of my tests today and I'm like spiraling currently. So sorry if this sucks. Trying.}

Peter Stark wasn't the type of kid to get himself into dangerous situations. He wasn't the type of kid to be reckless or overly courageous or have so little self-preservation that he'd die at a young. 

Spider-Man was, but not Peter. And currently, Peter is just Peter. No mask to hide behind, no web shooters, no protection. Just Peter Stark. 

And with all the guns, there was nothing Peter could do unless he wanted to put others in danger along with himself. 

And he promised, he swore, he'd be home. That he'd always come home. 

~{3 hours earlier}~

Peter smiled and hugged his dad in the kitchen, happy as ever. 

He had always been a happy kid. Despite having lost everything, he was still happy, still positive. Still tried to put a smile on everyone else's face, even when he couldn't put one on his own. 

"How was school, kiddo?" Tony asks, smiling down at his adopted son. It still made him giddy to think of the kid as his own. 

"Really good! I'm going to meet Ned at the library to work on project if that's cool? I just wanted to come home and say hi before I head out again," Peter says, big eyes sparkling. Peter had always seen the sort of sadness that lingered on his father, had always realized the pain that Tony carried with him. So he tried to make himself as happy as he could to make up for his dad's sadness. 

"Curfew's at 7 tonight if you're not going over to Ned's. You know Pepper would kill me if I let you stay at the library until after the sus sets," Tony says seriously. 

"Yeah! I'll probably be home by 6, even. The project won't take long. We're just writing the rough draft for our English short story. Then we're trading with MJ tomorrow to peer edit. I'll be home for dinner. Promise!"

They worked on their project for a good 2 hours before Peter decided to walk to a nearby convenience store for some snacks. 

Apparently, it was to be one of the worst decisions yet. 

*  
He had just made it to the cash when a couple shady figures walked in. Peter didn't think much of it, deciding he was just going to pay and get out. It was probably nothing. 

"Is that all?" The woman behind the counter asks, smiling boredly. 

"Yeah," Peter says, passing over his $20 bill. 

She takes it and she's opening the till to get his change when there's the snap of a gun cocking from behind him. 

Peter goes to turn around, to try to disarm the person of the gun when he feels the barrel against his back. 

"Empty your pockets. Now," the voice says, deep and gruff. 

Peter's fingers are shaking as he pulls out the contents of his pocket and lays them on the counter, virtually leaving him weaponless. His phone, headphones, wallet, pencil, and pack of gum. 

He looks up from the counter to see the lady, hands raised in surrender, eyes wide and obviously petrified. 

"Sit down. Back against the counter. Hands where I can see them," the man orders angrily. 

Peter does as told, the woman doing the same, sitting beside Peter and keeping her hands in front of her. 

Soon, the other two people in black ski masks walk over, pointing rifles at 4 other people. 

There's 2 teenagers, probably University aged, together. The girl looks a little older. She has dark brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, mascara smeared under her crying, blue eyes, fingers locked with the man's. The guy has short, choppy blond hair, 5 o'clock shadow, jaw dropped in a gasp, brown eyes darting around the room. 

The other pair is older. Two men. Probably in their late twenties. Workers here. Both obviously scared out of their minds as they walk in, hands raised above their heads. One of the two are buff. Broad shoulders visible underneath a slim t-shirt, wavy dark hair framing his tan skin. The other is a small, dark-skinned man. He walks almost protectively in front of the other, a mask of anger, but visible fear behind his dark eyes. 

"Sit with the others," the first man demands, gesturing his gun towards the group on the floor. 

They all oblige, too scared to act out. Too scared of getting shot. 

Peter raises a timid hand, scared that speaking out will get him shot. It makes him feel like he's 6 years old. Being told to make a mother's day card. He remembers slowly raising his hand and asking what happens if they don't have a mom to give the card to. He remembers being scared or the outcome, confused as to how he even got into the situation in the first place. Just like now. 

"What?" Guy 1 asks, waving his gun in Peter's direction. 

"What are you going to do? What's going on?" Peter asks, voice coming out just as vulnerable as he feels. 

A soft, muffled sob comes from the other girl. 

"We need leverage. 6 young people is about as good of leverage as you can get," Guy 2 says, almost absentmindedly as he stuffs his pockets with cash from the register. 

"Eagle," Guy 3 huffs, "stop that and get over here. The nest is calling."

Eagle rolls his eyes but follows Guy 3 out of the room. 

Guy 1 turns on the group of people huddled together, grabbing a duffel bag from the floor. 

He smirks as he pulls out a bunch of rope. 

*

Once Guy 1 had left to speak to his comrades, leaving the hostages tied up against the counter. 

Peter turns to the others, keeping a calm exterior for the others as he wriggles with the surprisingly tight rope.

"I'm Peter. I'm going to figure out a way to get us out, okay?" he says, looking over each face. 

Everyone in the line introduces themselves. The cashier as Taylor, the girl as Nicole, her boyfriend as Matt, the first man as Liam, the second man as Ty. 

(Oof average as heck names but I don't feel like thinking about names)

"How old are you?" Nicole asks, a frown crossing her face as she looks Peter over another time. 

"16. Almost 17," he replies, brain working a thousand miles an hour to formulate a plan to get them out of there.

"And how is a kid going to get us out of here?" Liam asks, rolling his eyes. 

"Shut up!" Eagle shouts, everybody flinching at his loud demands. 

The three of them stalk back into the room, weapons pointed at the group of people. 

"Do we need to gag you too?" Guy 1 demands, rolling his dark eyes behind the ski mask. 

"I don't understand. Why aren't you robbing the place? Why are you keeping us here?" Peter asks, shifting under the intense stare of the barrel of the gun pointed to his forehead.

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?" Guy 3 says, waving his gun in Peter's face. The teenager can't help but flinch at the threat, shoulders tensing. 

"You're going to kill the kid by a heart attack if you keep that up, T-Rex," Eagle laughs, rolling his shoulders and grinning wildly at the hostages. 

"To answer your question," Guy 1 says, "This is a whole block of opportunities, including a bank and a jewelry store. The police are going to hand over whatever we ask for if we've got hostages inside the building. Especially some kid."

"Wait a minute... Holy shit, Fox! Isn't that the kid from the news! I've seen him before!" Eagle exclaims, eyes wide as he looks over the now trembling teenager.

"You're right... You're right, I know him... Stark! He's Stark's kid!" T-Rex agrees, nodding quickly and turning to Fox. "This kid's going to make us a fortune."

"Unless his daddy shows up. Iron Man would kick our ass for messing with his kid," Fox says, thinking it over. "We've still got time on our side. Eagle, keep an eye on the others. We're going to make some bargains."

Fox and T-Rex grab Peter's arms, yanking the trembling kid to his feet. 

"You try to make a move and we'll give Eagle the order to shoot all the others back there. And from what I know, your new best friend, Nicole and her boyfriend? I heard they're carrying a baby. So watch it," Fox snarls as soon as Peter starts struggling. 

Peter falls submissive almost embarrassingly fast. Forcing his feet one after the other as he's pulled from the convenience store and out into the street.

If it were under different circumstances, Peter would've admired the scenery. It's winter so the sun is setting over the far off skyscrapers, the tower visible in the distance. Little snowflakes dance through the air, catching in his curls and melting on his skin upon contact. Sky colored all different hues of orange and blue like a painting straight out of a museum. 

Peter wonders if Ned's worried already. It's been longer than it should've been, but he might not have even noticed his absence yet. Tony certainly hasn't. 

Peter stumbles over his own feet as he's pulled into the first store in their heist.

"Hey! Hands in the air!" Fox shouts, shooting the ceiling a few times for dramatic affect before turning his gun back on Peter. "Hand over all the valuables or I shoot him and then all of you!" 

The store manager is quick to fumble for the cash register at the store. 

"I'm sorry," Peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes as he watches everyone in the store crumble. The shoppers and the workers all scared out of their fucking minds and Peter can't do a single thing to stop it from happening. He just has to watch as the money is stuffed into the duffel bag in T-Rex's free hand. 

"Do whatever it takes to keep yourself safe, kid," the store manager replies, offering a smile, shaky but kind nonetheless. 

"If you call the fucking cops, I'll shoot him," Fox growls. There's a fiery anger behind his small eyes and everyone knows he's not joking. 

The hands tighten around Peter's arms and he's being pulled back into the street, towards the next store. 

"Please," Peter begs, pulling at the arms again, pulling at his restraints. "Please. Stop this. Please. You don't have to do this. Please."

"Shut up," Fox hisses, meaty fingers tightening enough to leave bruises. 

"Please. Just leave them out of this. Let the rest of them go," Peter pleads, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. 

T-Rex acts too fast for Peter to react, shoving the teen to the ground and kicking his stomach. 

Peter groans, curling into himself on the sidewalk, crying as the fear is constant. 

Peter's not scared of death. He's not scared of whatever's on the other side. He's not scared of dying in pain or peace. What he's scared of is leaving his dad alone to deal with his death. He's scared of what Tony would do to bring him back. What he'd sacrifice to change fate. 

The feet continue kicking his ribs and stomach. Over and over and over again as he cries out in pain. Until he's scared his ribs will break from the pressure of the heavy boots pummeling his body. Until Peter begs them to stop. Begs over and over and over again until they stop. 

They finally do, hauling the kid back to his feet as he coughs up blood. 

“Let’s go, kid. We’ve still got some stores to hit. Next up the bank. And this time don’t be a bitch about it,” Fox grumbles, blunt fingernails digging into Peter shoulder as he begins to lead them off once again. 

Peter tries to keep his sobs quieted as he’s dragged into the bank, bloody and scared. 

“Hands in the air!” T-Rex shouts gun waving violently. 

Peter sobs quietly, wrestling miserably at the hands on his arms. He doesn’t want anyone else to feel the fear he’s feeling. Doesn’t want anyone else to try to get themselves in trouble to save him. 

The teenager is pushed onto his knees, barrel of the rifle against his temple. 

He shivers at the coolness of the gun, squeezing his eyes shut, tears never ceasing as they spill over his cheeks. 

“Let the kid go. Please,” one of the woman at the counter begs as she starts making a pile of the money on the countertop. 

“Shut up,” Fox snarls pushing his gun harder against my temple. 

“Please,” she repeats, makeup smearing as she begins to cry. “Please. He’s just a kid. Let him go.”

“You heard her. Let him go,” another voice says from behind them. 

Iron Man stands in the doorway in all his glory, red and gold suit glowing in the setting sun. 

“If you take another step. I shoot,” Fox threatens angrily, safety clicking off. 

Peter whimpers quietly, staring up at his dad with begging eyes to get him out of the situation. 

Tony removes his face plate, eyes big and full of an angry fire. Though there’s an easy smile on his face as though he doesn’t care about the situation. 

“What do you want?” Tony asks, almost nonchalant. He knows they won’t shoot. If the shoot, they’ll live a life of torturous hell. 

Fox opens his mouth to answer, but T-Rex cuts him off. “Your suit. Plus all the money in the bank.” 

“My suit? You think I’m going to hand over an Iron Man suit? Put it into your hands?” Tony asks, lifting his eyebrows. 

“Don’t do it,” Peter chokes out, tugging at his ropes some more, but the beating has really taken a lot of his strength away. 

Tony barely nods in his direction, barely lets himself look at his kid. And Peter’s genuinely worried for a moment that Tony would let them kill him over giving them what they want. 

But then Tony’s stepping out of the suit, an easy smile on his face as he takes a few steps left, gesturing to his suit. 

“If you want it, take it,” Tony says, an almost excited glimmer in his eyes as he watches every movement Fox makes. 

A grin lights up on Fox’s face and he gives a look to T-Rex who goes to collect the money from the counter. 

Fox takes a few steps forward and then backs into the suit. Friday closes up around him. 

Shouting comes from inside almost immediately as the suit shoots beams at T-Rex who crumbles to the ground once he’s hit. The woman behind the counter has found shelter behind one of the heavy doors of an open vault, keeping herself out of harm’s way. 

“You’re going to regret this-” Fox’s screams cut off suddenly and the suit reopens, his body tumbling to the floor. 

Tony’s quick to race over to Peter, collecting his kid in his arms tightly. 

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Tony murmurs, hugging his kid close. His right hand runs through Peter’s hair, cradling his son’s head against the crook of his neck. His left hand pulls at the ropes around his wrists, fiddling with the knots. As soon as they’re undone, they fall away and Peter throws his arms around Tony’s body wincing at the strain in his side at the movement. 

“There’s more- more hostages. In the convenience store. There’s more-” Peter chokes out, shoulders trembling. 

“I know, kid. I know. They’re safe. I went there first. They’re all safe. I promise. You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you for being as strong as you were. I’ve got you, kid. Everyone’s safe,” Tony replies, rocking Peter’s body gently to calm the never ending torrent of tears. 

“How’d you- How’d you know?” The teenager asks, fingers curling tightly into the back of his dad’s jacket. 

“Ned called. He said you’d left and weren’t picking up your phone. He was worried something happened. I told him to go home and I’d come find you. Turned out, he had reason to worry. I’m just so glad I got to you in time,” Tony says, burying his nose in his son’s curls, breathing in the soft scent of New York. Of his cinnamon scented body wash. The smell of old books from the library. The smell of home. 

Peter can’t find the strength in him to respond, crumbling further into his dad’s embrace, ever grateful to have someone standing with him, someone to save him, always. His body doesn’t stop trembling, adrenaline wearing off, but fear still present. Even when the police officers come in and arrest the two unconscious bodies. Even when the hostages from the convenience store wander into the bank and thank the two Stark’s for saving their lives. Even when Tony convinces them to go back home. 

He never lets go of his dad. Never removes his right grip from his dad’s jacket. Never takes his head out from where it’s buried, safe on his father’s chest, protected by the soft glow and hum from the arc reactor.   
Never let’s go, even when Happy arrives to pick them up. Even when Tony continues murmuring soft reassurances. Even when they arrive back at the tower and Tony lifts him into his arms and carries him into the tower because he’s too weak, shaking too much, to even stand on his own two feet. 

Peter finally let’s go when they arrive to Peter’s bedroom and he’s placed gently down in his soft sheets. 

“Don’t go,” Peter whines, feeling small. Smaller than he’s ever felt. He almost died today. He could’ve. He would’ve had Tony not thought quickly enough. 

“I’m right here, underoos. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. I promise. They’re never getting out of jail for what they did, okay?” Tony says, offering Peter a gentle smile. “I’ve got you, Okay? You’re safe.”

Peter nods quickly, tugging on Tony’s bigger, calloused hand to bring him down into the bed with him. He can’t be alone right now. Not when he’s felt alone for what feels like forever being a hostage. 

Tony doesn’t fight it, lying down in the bed beside Peter and letting Peter curl up against his chest, small body still trembling in fear. 

“I’ve got you, kid. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Get some sleep. I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re safe.”

____  
Hope you enjoyed :)  
Lyss


	4. 4-Sleepless Nights

(I'm so sorry. I know I'm already a few days behind but I've had like a pounding headache for the past couple days and I've been getting behind on homework. I'll try to catch up either today or this weekend)

Peter hadn't meant to skip a few nights of sleep. He hadn't meant for it to turn into so long with only a couple hours of sleep every couple nights. 

He had lots of school work to catch up and patrol and May and the internship and Academic Decathlon. It was a lot. Too much to do, not enough time. 

"So what?" Peter grumbles as he passes the mirror in the bathroom on his way to take a shower. He looks a little worse for wear. Disheveled. Messy. Tired. 

He almost passed out in the shower, the hot water relaxing his constantly tense muscles. He quickly forces himself to switch it to cold water, waking himself up before school. 

He practically tumbles into school an hour later, head spinning as he forces a smile to Ned. 

"Man, you look wrecked. Patrolling late?" He says, eyes wide and knowing. 

"Till like 4 in the morning. The stupid bad guys just wouldn't stop," Peter groans, rolling his eyes. Every blink feels like he'll fall asleep. "Every time I started heading back, a new guy would try to do something bad. And I'd have to stop them because apparently the police are incompetent."

Ned lifts his hands in surrender, a laugh on his lips. "Haha yeah. Police have been slacking now that they have Spider-Man doing their job for them."

Peter forces half a smile. He remembers a story from Greek mythology he read as a kid. Atlas. Who was forced to hold up the Sky. Who knelt on a mountain and carried the weight of the sky as punishment. He didn't crumble like people thought he would, but it wasn't easy. That's how Peter felt. Like he was holding up the sky and sooner or later, it would crush him.

He ended up falling asleep in English class. And getting a detention. 

"Have you been sleeping?" MJ asks, sounding so careless. It's lunch now and Peter's just feeling worse and worse. 

"Yes, I've been sleeping," Peter says defensively, rolling his eyes. 

She rolls her eyes right back, throwing up a vulgar gesture, but there's a visible hint of worry in her eyes. 

"You care!" Ned gasps, pretending to be appalled. 

"I do not!" MJ says indignantly, rolling her eyes again. She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Peter lets his head fall into his arms, head pounding like a jack hammer. 

"You okay?" Ned asks again, voice softer than before. 

Peter hums in response, too tired to even lift his head. 

"Dude... Is everything okay with like your... Internship?" Ned asks, voice dropping to just above a whisper. 

"With Spider-Man? It's okay, man, you don't have to say it like that. Just don't go shouting it from the rooftops, you know?" Peter slurs, voice rougher than it normally is. 

"Okay, okay, yeah.. But seriously, has something happened? Are you injured?"

"Few cuts and bruises here and there, but nothing life-threatening. I swear. Karen would've already snitched on me to Mister Stark if I had," Peter mumbles, lifting his head to show his bloodshot eyes.

Ned sends him an annoyed look, conveying that Peter better spill what's going on or Ned was going to kill him.

"I've just been a little busy, you know? Been sidelining sleep a little bit too much. I'll skip patrol if that'll make you feel better."

"You better."

*

Peter didn't skip patrol. He was wholeheartedly planning on it, but his spidey-senses were going crazy while trying to finish his homework, and he couldn't convince himself to ignore it. He couldn't focus knowing somebody was in danger and he wasn't there to protect them. It turned out to just be another small robbery at a convenience store and the police were already on their way to deal with it. 

But once he started patrolling, there was no going back. Every time he was ready to call it a night and head home, something new would happen. And it didn't matter how small of a thing it was, Peter couldn't leave it. He couldn't just ignore it and head home.

He knew it was getting bad when a civilian stopped him and asked him if he was okay.

Peter obviously answered that he was, lying simply because he didn't want to have his city worried about their protector. 

When he finally fell through his bedroom window, he was trembling. His muscles were twitching from overworking them and from their desire to relax after so long of being tense. Every blink felt like his eyelids were gaining pounds. He trips over his own feet as he struggles to tug off the suit and he's just about to collapse into bed when he sees his abandoned homework on his desk.

He groans loudly, the noise morphing into a yawn partway through as he falls into the chair at his desk, muscles screaming at the idea of staying up for longer. It's already around 3 in the morning and he's so tired. He tried to get as much done as he could during his detention, but the teacher was being a dick and said that detentions are for being bored not for catching up on schoolwork he should've been doing in class instead of sleeping.

So he had to wait until he got home, already later than normal, and began working until he had to go out for patrol. Now he's regretting falling asleep in class at all now that he's struggling to keep himself awake. 

He decides he seriously needs to pull out the big guns on this one. 

He sneaks into May's room and steals $20 from her wallet before heading out again. There's a vending machine on the first floor of their apartment building and Peter buys as many Redbulls as his money can afford. Which is 12 cans.

He has an English essay to write, projects for his Stark Internship to complete, new formulations for his web fluid so it lasts longer, a Spanish quiz to study for, and some Chem and Physics homework.

Might as well chug some Red Bull while he's at it. He'll need it if he's going to need to pull another allnighter and then go through a full day of school plus the internship after school. 

*

Maybe the Red Bull hadn't been a good idea.

Maybe he should've just put off his homework.

Maybe he should've skipped school that day.

Maybe he should've tried to sleep at least a little bit.

Maybe he should've skipped patrol.

Maybe he should've tried to care more for himself.

Unfortunately, he did none of these. 

Unfortunately, he went to school after staying up for the past 103 hours not including his short nap in English class, after drinking 5 Red Bulls. He shoved the other 7 into his backpack, needing to drink another one every time his body started crashing. 

He knew it was stupid. He knew he was being unbelievably stupid and his pounding head and jerking limbs were probably a signal he needed to break. Ned's worried stares and MJ's actual concern should've probably told him that he was just progressively getting worse.

But he was too far in. He needed to keep his grades up and he needed Mister Stark to be proud of him and he needed to protect his city and he needed to make sure May came home to a clean house and dinner. He needed everyone around him to be happy even if he's crumbling under the pressure.

He couldn't care less about his diminishing healing power. He couldn't care less that he's needed to put bandages on wounds that he normally wouldn't need to. He couldn't care less that he couldn't stop shaking with the caffeine constantly coursing through his body. He couldn't care less that even Flash was laying off with his tormenting. 

"How many is that?" MJ demands, pulling the new unopened Red Bull out of Peter's hand at lunch. 

"Why do you care?" Peter snaps, grabbing the drink back and rolling his eyes. 

"Because you're killing yourself, Peter!" MJ exclaims, eyes going wide and scared. "Because if you don't stop doing this to yourself, you're going to get yourself killed!"

Peter rolls his eyes again, popping open the drink and taking a swig. 

"I'm not going to die. I'm just a little low on energy. I'm compensating," Peter says, glaring at the wall to the left of his friend. 

"Well have fun compensating alone. I'm not going to just sit around and watch you do this. And neither is Ned. When you've come to your senses, call us," MJ says, turning and stomping off. 

Peter rolls his eyes again, throwing a vulgar gesture at MJ's back.

*

Peter starts to feel worse and worse emotionally and physically. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to overwork himself if it meant losing his friends. 

He knew deep down it wasn’t a permanent thing, they were just worried, but it hurt nonetheless to spend the whole day by himself. 

When he finally collapses into the backseat of Happy’s car, he’s close to breaking down. He knows he’s going to crack sooner or later, he’s just gotta make it through the night. 

Happy keeps looking at Peter funny as the kid drinks his second last Red Bull on the way back to the tower. 

Tony doesn’t notice anything. He’s realized that Peter’s looked off, but not more off than usual. 

It’s only until the sun starts setting that Peter’s resolve breaks. 

It happens pretty out of the blue, Peter’s energy is crashing and his hands haven’t stopped shaking. 

His vision is blacking out every few seconds and he can’t seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. 

The tears are spilling over before he can control on himself and he blinks and suddenly he’s on the floor. 

Tony’s leaning over him, eyes wide and hands panicked as they search over Peter’s body to try to find something wrong. His lips are moving but Peter can’t hear a word as he spaces out, ears ringing. 

Everything goes dark. 

*

When Peter comes to, it’s only been a couple minutes, the exhaustion hanging off him like a backpack strapped to him. 

“Peter? Pete, can you hear me? C’mon, kid,” Mister Stark mumbles, hands helping keep Peter partially upright. 

Peter immediately bursts into tears, trembling as his sobs finally escape his body. 

“Ned and MJ hate me!” He cries, hugging onto Tony like he’s a lifeline. “They-They hate me and im such a failure. I can never do anything right. My grades are dropping and I’m not healing as well and i can barely hold myself together. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore and I’m so fucking tired all the time.”

“Calm down. It’s okay. Breathe. Nobody hates you and you’re certainly not a failure. Let’s start from the beginning, okay? Ned and MJ, why do you think they hate you?” Mister Stark says, gentle and soft in a voice that he only uses for Peter. 

“I’ve been moody and annoying and MJ’s pissed because she doesn’t want to watch me destroy myself,” Peter recites, sniffling as his tears slow. Even just getting the words out of him has lessened the weight on his shoulders.

“Let’s call her, yeah? We’ll get this sorted out,” Tony says, giving Peter a reassuring smile. 

Peter nods quickly, tugging his phone out of his pocket and finding his second closest friends contact. 

“Peter?” MJ questions sounding tired, but not as wrecked as Peter sounds as he speaks. 

“MJ? I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have annoyed you like. It’s unfair of me to be pushing all my problems onto you like that. You were right and I’m so sorry. I can fix this, I promise. I’m sorry,” Peter sniffles desperately. _I can’t lose you._

“It’s not your fault, Peter,” MJ sighs. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like I did. It just... it hurts me to know that you’re hurting and that you’re refusing to let anyone else bear the weight with you. I wouldn’t mind if you borrowed any of my notes. I don’t mind if you need to skip Academic Decathlon. I don’t mind if you need to copy my homework. You’re a superhero for gods sake. You need to let me and Ned and Tony and May help you, Okay? I’m not going to let you go under again.”

A quiet sob of relief escapes Peter’s throat. “Thank you. Thank you so so much. I’m going to-”

“Shut up, Parker. Just get some sleep for me. Skip school tomorrow, I’ll get your homework and shit. Take it easy. Call me after you’ve slept for at least 24 hours.”

MJ hangs up without waiting for a response and Peter’s whole body relaxes in relief. 

“We’re going to have a long discussion about all of this... Later. For now, you’re going to sleep. Like your girlfriend said, for at least 24 hours. Let’s go, kid,” Tony says, helping bring Peter up to his feet. 

Peter sways and leans heavily against his mentor. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he slurs. 

“Sure she’s not. Okay, get some sleep,” Tony instructs, pushing Peter onto the bed once they make it to Peter’s bedroom. 

“Stay,” Peter murmurs, pulling his blankets up lazily around his shoulders. 

“Okay. I’m not going anywhere, kid.” 

____  
Sorry this sucks as I said at the beginning I haven’t been feeling the best. Been stressed and stuff but I’ll catch up on the days I’ve missed this weekend!

Lyss


	5. 5-Restraints

Peter shows up after being missing for 2 years. Still is in his restraints. Maybe he was dropped off. Brain-washed. Scared. Bucky scares him bcs Hydra. Etc. 

Tony was having a regular day until it happened. 

Him and Steve had made up a while back from civil war and all the avengers were staying at the new, barely used, avengers compound. Other than Thor who was still busy out in Asgard, Bucky who was out in town for the day, and Clint and Scott who were home with family. 

They were all lounging in the living room, watching movies, eating snacks, and talking about everything from little to big when suddenly Friday spoke up. 

"Boss... You have what they said was a gift waiting out front," she says, somehow sounding worried. 

"Who's they?" Tony asks, bringing himself to his feet, the others glance between him and the ceiling, obviously worried. It could be a bomb for all they know. 

"Running a facial scan... They appear to all be members of Hydra according to their badges. No facial recognition from the system."

"Scan the gift, Fri. Is it a bomb?"

There's a few seconds of tense silence. 

"I've run a facial scan and-"

"Facial?" Tony exclaims, looking up. 

"Yes. It's hard to be certain, but I believe it is Peter Parker. Age 17. Went missing when he was 12 years old. From Queens, New York. No living relatives," Friday informs. 

"Shit," Tony exclaims, immediately racing for the doors, avengers on his heels. 

It's a pretty horrifying sight. 

Lying on the front porch is Peter Parker. Gagged, wrists and ankles in big shackles, thick ropes tying his arms to the rest of his body, a blindfold over his eyes, and a thick metal band around his neck. All the visible skin is torn, bleeding, bruised, or charred.

"Holy shit," Tony repeats, hands beginning to shake at his sides. He doesn't even know where to start. 

"Is that vibranium?" Steve demands, standing up at Tony's side as his eyes dart over the boy's still figure. 

"What do we do? _Shit_. Steve?" Tony says, eyes wide and scared. 

"Let's wake him up, get him inside. We'll figure it out once we figure out what's happened," Steve instructs. 

"Do we trust him? He's apart of Hydra?" Natasha says, unsure but obviously sympathetic. 

"Look at him... he's tied up. He looks hurt. Badly. This isn't his fault. Even if he's brainwashed, this isn't on him. We have to take care of him," Steve says, obviously seeing Bucky in the poor kid. 

Tony kneels beside the kid and carefully rests a hand on his shoulder. 

"Peter?"

The kid's body tenses up impossibly beneath Tony's hand and he flinches away making some gurgling noise through the gag. 

Tony's eyes widen further, tugging the gag and blindfold off the kid as quickly as he can, knowing all the other restraints will be much harder to deal with. 

"Kid? Peter? I'm Tony. Tony Stark. We're going to take care of you, Okay?" Tony says, feeling something deep inside him shatter at the kid's big, innocent brown eyes behind the blindfold. 

"Yes, sir," is all Peter chokes out, struggling to keep his emotions in check. 

Steve looks angry as he helps Peter to his shaky feet easily. Peter's terribly thin, much much too thin. There's a deep raging fire behind Steve's eyes, unable to stop himself from imagining the hell this kid's probably been through. Natasha and the others, besides Steve and Tony, hurry off to tell Fury of the situation and see what th best steps to take are. To see if the kid really has nowhere to go. 

No words are spoken as Peter's led through the compound to the hospital where Bruce is waiting with some things. 

Peter murmurs something quietly, that nobody manages to catch. 

"What was that, Peter? Are you okay?" Steve asks, keeping his voice soft like he's talking to a toddler. 

"No needles... Please," Peter says, almost begging. 

"No needles," Bruce promises, lifting his hands, palms up, with a gentle smile. 

Peter nods a little bit, absentmindedly. "Thank you."

Peter's eyes fall to the floor and he goes entirely still again like he's suddenly decided to take a nap standing up. 

"Do you want to lie down, Peter?" Steve asks, eyes checking the kid over at every chance he gets to make sure he's not injured anymore than what's visible. 

Peter wordlessly nods, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at his motionless fingers. 

Finally, he looks up, and something looks irreplaceably Broken in his eyes. 

"'M sorry... Who's Peter?" Peter instantly flinches and he ducks his head down again, shoulders bracing like he's expecting to get hit. 

"Kid..." Tony sighs, kneeling down on the floor in front of the teenager. "You are Peter. Peter Parker. That's you."

Peter refuses to meet the hero's eyes, keeping his gaze downcast. He swallows loudly, flinching again. 

Tony lifts himself off the floor after giving the kid one last sad look and then turns back to Bruce and Steve. 

"We need to get those chains off him. ASAP," Tony instructs. 

"Your repulsors might be strong enough to break through? Maybe my shield if that doesn't work?" Cap suggests. 

The glove instantly forms around Tony's glove and he turns back to the kid, who's watching him with wide eyes. 

"Let's get those cuffs off, huh?" Tony says gently, nodding at Peter's hands. 

Peter shakes his head quickly, pulling his wrists into his chest with wide, scared eyes. 

"We're not going to hurt you," Steve reassures, hunching down beside Tony to make himself seem less intimidating. 

"Have I been bad?" he squeaks, voice barely above the softest of whisper. "I'm sorry. Please. I'll do better."

"No, no, no. You haven't done anything wrong. We just want to get your handcuffs off. It'll feel better and Bruce will be able to dress your wounds, okay?" Tony murmurs, taking another small step towards the small boy. 

He flinches at the movement, but doesn't move to get away at all. 

It takes a while of coaxing to convince Peter to hold his skinny arms away from his chest, and then it takes a while for the laser to cut through the strong metal, but when it's finally done, and wrapped in white gauze, Peter looks a lot easier to handle. 

The rest of the restraints are easier to deal with besides the thick metal collar around Peter's neck. 

"I'm too worried about hurting him more with the repulsors," Tony says, letting the gauntlet disappear back into his watch. 

"Yeah. Peter? Do you know anyway to get this off?" Bruce asks, green ringing around his hands when Peter flinches away from him. 

It takes Peter a few moments before he slowly nods, fear shining in his big eyes. 

"How? The sooner we get this off, the sooner you can sleep. How does that sound?" Steve coaxes. "We're not going to hurt you. I promise."

Peter carefully pulls a small remote from the pocket in his overly large jeans. There's bloodstains and rips all over the jeans and they hang off his slim waist. 

He holds it close to him, a small pout on his lips and tears forming in his bambi eyes. 

"Please don't hurt me. Please. I promise I'll do better. I'll do anything. Please," Peter begs, voice shaking and cracking off into nothingness by the end. 

"What does this do?" Steve asks, chin jutting out a little bit as he takes in the raw skin peeking out from underneath the collar and the remote in Peter's hand. "Did they electrocute you?"

Peter freezes up and he pushes himself away from us a little more, eyes wide and darting, whining softly in pain at the movement. 

"We're not going to hurt you, Peter. It's okay. We're going to try to get the collar off. Do you know what button it could be?" Tony says, palms up in surrender despite wanting to still the kid's movements to make him stop hurting himself more. 

Peter regards the remote for a few moments, eyes wary as he continuously glances up at us. 

"This one?" Peter guesses, frowning deeply as his finger hovers over one of the buttons. "They never used this one."

Tony doesn't want Peter to just go for it to see if it works in case it's something worse than whatever they'd been doing already, it could be an even higher dose of electricity for adults instead of kids for all they know. 

But Peter goes for it, tapping the button and holding himself tight, tensing his body as though waiting for the shock. 

There's a small click that echoes through the quiet room, everybody holding their breaths, and then the collar falls off of Peter neck. 

It's not a pretty sight. Charred skin, cuts still bleeding from lack of tending to, all the surrounding skin is an angry red fading into a light pink. 

"It's probably going to scar," Bruce mutters, hands flexing over and over again as the green starts to spread a little bit more than safe. 

"He's safe now, Bruce. He's never going to have to go through it again," Steve mumbles in response, touching Bruce's shoulder for a second before handing him more of the white gauze.

Bruce nods quickly, flexing his hands once more before beginning his work on wrapping Peter's neck. 

Once it's finally finished, Peter sits and watches us with big eyes. 

"What do you want to do?" Steve asks. 

"Me?" Peter asks, eyes somehow getting bigger. 

"Yeah. Do you want to eat? Or go outside? Or watch Tv? Or sleep? Or something else?" Steve continues, just as gentle and patient as ever. 

Peter glances back and forth, fingers beginning to fidget. "Outside? TV? What are... What-"

"Come on. I'll show you. We can go visit the garden," Tony suggests, reaching out a hand for Peter. 

Peter's pupils dilate and he grabs Tony's hand excitedly, getting up to his shaky legs. 

Tony leads Peter out of the tower, towards where the big garden is out back. 

Peter's practically vibrating with excitement, big eyes taking in the world. 

"When was the last time you went outside, Peter?" Tony asks, despite not wanting to know the answer. 

Peter shakes his head, small hand squeezing onto Tony's. "They never let me out. Ever. Not even a window."

"At all? 5 years?" Tony gasps, eyes watering. He didn't meant to care for this kid, didn't mean to get emotionally invested this early. 

Peter shakes his head again. A small squeaky noise leaving his mouth as he sees a cute daisy growing outside the garden borders. 

He smiles shyly down at the little flower then looks back up at me, smile dropping. 

"Never," he repeats. "Was it really 5 years?"

"Yeah... you're 17 now, in case you were wondering. And you'll be staying here with us unless the others can figure out if you've got any relatives," Tony explains. 

Peter nods slowly. 

"I don't.... I don't remember anything from before. Not really," Peter says, desperately wracking his brain for anything from before the 5 years in his prison. 

"I don't want to have to bring up bad memories... but I need to know some things. Do you know where the hydra base is?"

"No. I was never allowed out. I was knocked out on the way in and knocked out and blindfolded before I was taken here. I don't know any information about them either. I know names and faces, but that's it. Nothing for you to find them," Peter explains. 

"Was there any other people there with you? Or were you by yourself?" 

Peter hesitates for a few moments, continuing the slow pace beside the hero. "There used to be a few others... 3 that I knew of, but after a while, they just disappeared. Probably dead or something. I think they were weeding out the strongest. Whoever's brain collapses first loses."

"What the fuck?"

Peter laughs, a humorless cold laugh. "Yeah. Whoever's the strongest, whoever survives the longest, wins or something. They talked about how I was going to be a super soldier. I was going to be the new Winter Soldier after they lost their first one, but apparently they didn't think that because I was the strongest, I was going to be the hardest to break."

"And did they?" Tony asks, stopping in his footsteps to let Peter sit down and rest. "Did they break you, I mean?"

"Yeah," Peter mumbles, staring down at the floor with glazed over eyes. "They we're trying a different tactic than what they used for the winter soldier. They didn't want me to forget, didn't want me to be mindless. They wanted a genius. They had the warriors. And the weapons. But they needed to have leverage. Someone to use as bait. Someone to come up with the plans. That's harder to do than to create the perfect soldier."

"Did you become what they wanted?"

"Yeah," Peter admits. "I was never strong enough... wasn't strong enough to do anything to stop them. They decided last week that I wasn’t good enough... that’s why they left me here.”

Tony sighs and sits down beside Peter. "It's not your fault."

Peter doesn't say anything, keeps his lips drawn shut. 

"What did they tell you in there?" Tony asks, coming across the issue. Peter will answer everything honestly, only if he's first asked a question. 

“Don’t look people in the eyes. Don’t talk back. Remember that you’re below everyone around you,” Peter recites, eyes glazed over. 

“You don’t have to follow their rules anymore. You’re going to be safe here now, Okay? We’re going to keep you safe here. I swear on my life.”

Peter’s eyes fill with tears, this time with relief more than anything.

*

It takes a long time to break out the kid that was left behind in that building, the kid that was pushed so far down that Peter was just a robot for them. It took forever, but they managed to bring out the happiness, the smiles, the jokes, the pure laughs, the beauty of the kid. 

And Tony swore he’d never let that disappear. 

____  
Oops fuck sorry this wasn’t how I planned for this to go but I didn’t know how to make it any better sorry 

I’ll try to make the next one better 

Lyss


	6. 6-Severe Illness

{I'm gonna make something up because I don't feel like actually putting research into an illness. Whoops sorry not sorry I'm tired}

{Short but Sad}

{Peter is Tony's bio son}

Tony knew it would happen one day. Knew that the disease would one day destroy his son. His wonderful, perfect angel of a son. He knew one day he wouldn't be able to simply take Peter to Bruce and have everything fixed, or at least not as broken as they once were.

Peter was born with a disease. An illness. One that ravaged his organs one by one, rendering them immobile for long days. Until it would be sterilized for long enough for the organ to reboot. 

The first time it happened, Peter was a mere 8 months old. Small, innocent, new to the world. And then his kidneys shut down. The doctors panicked. They didn't know what to do, how to fix the tiny, screaming baby. It took days just to make Peter peaceful, only 3 weeks to find a solution. An injection to keep the illness at bay until it picked a new spot to attack.

It happened again when Peter was 2 years old. He woke up screaming, waking the whole penthouse with his cries. Everyone panicked. His liver had been forcibly shut down. Bruce managed to fix it, but Peter had been in bed rest for a week until his liver booted up again.

It happened maybe twice a year from that point on. Any organ that would be forcibly shut down. His kidneys, his liver, his stomach, his intestines, his lungs. The last one was the scariest, and unfortunately the most common. He'd have to be kept on a breathing tube which Peter hated, he always felt claustrophobic not being able to breathe on his own accords. Tony had to stay by his side all the time when his lungs would shut down because Peter would panic whenever he'd be left alone, scared that the breathing tube would pull out of place and he'd die, unable to even wheeze for air.

It was awful that Peter had to go through it at all, even more awful that Bruce couldn't find a cure, even more awful that Bruce was worried one day the disease would spread to his heart and force his heart to shut off. There wouldn't be anything for them to do if that one happened.

But Tony had hope. He had hope that since he single-handedly raised such an amazing child, he'd be lucky enough to keep him alive for a very long time.

Deep down, Tony knew it wasn't his fault. If he could, he'd do anything to take away the pain. But he couldn't help but feel responsible every time Peter mumbled something about being in pain, or needed to take a couple days off school, or woke up screaming in pain because it felt like his insides were tearing to shreds.

He tried his best. Made sure Peter had everything he needed to feel as comfortable as he could be. Made sure his own personalized hospital room in the tower felt comfy and nice. Made sure Peter's room always had the nicest, fluffiest of pillows. Made sure Peter ate well and slept well even when he could barely walk because of the pain inside him. Made sure, above anything else, that Peter knew he was loved more than anything.

But it wasn't easy. It was panic inducing and Tony rarely ever lasted more than a couple days without having a panic attack. Nightmares were often and he'd find himself crawling into Peter's bed just to hear his breaths and let them lull him back to sleep.

Peter never mentioned it. Never questioned it. As long as Tony slept, he was happy with it.

*

They should've prepared for the day better than they had. Should've planned for it. Should've mentally prepared for it to happen. 

Peter had, more or less. He wasn't scared of dying. He had had a good life. One of happiness and comfort and peace outside of his disease. He wasn't scared of the day the disease would spread. He wasn't scared of the thought of falling asleep and simply never waking up. He was never scared. He had prepared for it as well as a teenager could. 

Peter always made sure to hand out his love like it wasn't a big deal. He'd hug Ned at least 3 times a day and made sure to say goodbye, wholeheartedly at the end of the day. MJ didn't like hugs, so he kept it down to one hug for her everyday. He made sure to thank his dad at every chance he got. He made sure to hug his dad, cuddle with him, watch every movie on the planet just because they could. It was never a big deal for him. He just never wanted things to finish open-ended. He didn't want to die with Ned never getting to say goodbye, or for MJ to think she missed her chance at hugging Peter. He never wanted his dad to think he didn't appreciate everything he did for him. He didn't want his dad to not be able to say goodbye to his child. 

Because you never know when your last day is your last. You never know. 

And for Peter, it's more likely than you'd think. 

So Peter made sure to live everyday like his last. 

Even if someday's it hurt to drag himself out of bed and every step felt like another stab to his gut. Even if some days, he wanted to curl up in a ball and simply cease to exist. Even if he sometimes didn't feel like the constant pain was worth surviving for. 

He'd still get up and smile courageously at the mirror, and hug everyone around him and make sure everybody knew that he was going to die happy. That he was proud of the years he got to live.

Because any day could be his last. 

He just never really believed it would be so soon.

*

This time, Tony didn't wake up to screaming.

This time, Tony didn't jolt awake and throw his unwilling body out of bed.

This time, Tony didn't struggle under the weight of his son as he carried him to the hospital room in the tower.

This time, everything felt normal. Like nothing was wrong.

Tony had woken up, smiled at the ceiling at his peaceful night, having tucked Peter into bed the night before, kissed his forehead and headed off to his own bed. Later, Tony would regret not staying with Peter.

Tony had gotten out of bed, made coffee, cooked pancakes for breakfast and called for Peter to wake up for school.

When Peter didn't come, Tony didn't think much of it. He just figured Peter was still tired after their late night in the lab working on homework projects. 

Tony told Jarvis to wake his son.

It took Jarvis a moment to respond, but his words were all it took for Tony to spiral into a panic.

"Boss... It appears that the disease has spread."

Because this time, Peter didn't wake up screaming.

He didn't wake up at all.

Would never wake up again.

Because this time, the disease had spread and stopped Peter's heart.

~{1 year later}~

Tony hadn't left the lab in at least 3 weeks straight. It happens frequently. He'll pass out on the old couch, will only eat whatever Dum-E will give to him, normally smoothies, lots of coffee. 

What is he supposed to do? He's lost his son. His pride and joy. 

He had prepared himself for this day as best as a father could, but he thought that Bruce would find a cure before he would have to deal with all this.

The sadness is manageable.

The anger is manageable.

Even the pain is manageable.

The loneliness isn't. 

The realization every morning that the single person who has ever seen him truly as hero, the only person who accepted his flaws and still saw him as a hero, is gone. Crushing. Soul-crushing loneliness. 

Because he knows Peter wasn't scared to die. Peter never talked about it, but the brave faces weren't a mask. Wasn't something to hide the fear. 

He was genuinely brave. Genuinely prepared for death as though it wasn't the end. 

Tony was never as brave as Peter was. He could look death in the face and smile like Peter would, but he could never bear the thought of losing his son. He could never accept that one day he'd have to wake up without Peter's bouncing curls, bambi brown eyes, and bright smiles. 

He doesn't have a choice but to live without Peter, though he's not good at it. 

He's not good at living without his source of happiness. He's not good at existing without his one sole purpose. 

He doesn't want to live without Peter.

But here he is.

Losing a child is one of the worst things the universe can do to someone, one of the worst pains to deal with.

And Tony isn't sure he can deal with it anymore.


	7. 7-Betrayal

{TW for abuse ig}

Peter trudged into his apartment that night, cringing when he sees May's not alone. He doesn't like May's boyfriend. Something about his is just off, though he'd never admit it to May. It made his spidey-senses ring in the back of his skull. 

"I have to work for a couple hours, but Alex will be staying to get you dinner and he's there if you need any help with your homework. I have to head out though," May says quickly, kissing both her boyfriend and her nephew on the forehead. 

"Bye, May," Peter mumbles, already wanting to duck into his room and not leave for the rest of the night. He hates when he's left alone with Alex. Something about him... it just freaks Peter out and he doesn't know why. 

"Bye, babe. Have fun. See you tonight," Alex says, winking at the woman. 

May blushes, waves, then ducks out. 

The moment the door closes, Alex turns on Peter, face drained of all the carefree joy from moments before. 

"What's for dinner?" Peter asks quietly, spidey-senses pounding in the back of his skull. 

"Nothing for you. Like you deserve to eat anything," Alex mutters, rolling his dark eyes. 

"What?" Peter says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

"Your Aunt is constantly complaining about how much you eat and how hard it is to pay for your food all the time. So you're going to be a good boy and skip dinner tonight, and tell May that we ordered pizza, alright?" Alex says, voice pitching higher as though he's talking to a toddler. 

Peter frowns deeply, knowing his words are true. He's already been cutting back on breakfast, getting a granola bar and smoothie from the school's free breakfast program. May's been working less overtime shifts so she can spend time with Alex, but that means less money and Peter can't be eating as much. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak, but Alex stands, squaring his shoulders and glaring down at the smaller boy. 

"Go to your room," Alex snarls, pointing towards the hallway. 

Peter's eyes widen and he quickly nods, scurrying off to his bedroom. 

He immediately slams his door shut and collapses to the floor in front of it, confused as to why his hearts racing as fast as it is and why he feels the need for a flight or fight reaction. 

*

It takes him an hour to convince himself to move away from the door and to his desk to start working on his homework, trying to ignore his growling stomach. He's never had to skip dinner before. He normally would've had sandwich from Delmar's and takeout dinner by now, but he doesn't want to leave on patrol until May's home, just so that Alex doesn't get pissed. 

The door slams open, Alex's shadowed face glaring at him. Peter stumbles up to his feet, arms held in front of his chest as though he can protect himself. He can, but he wouldn't. He would never use his powers against May's boyfriend. 

He shakes his head. Why would he need to use them? It's not as thought his Aunt's boyfriend would try to hurt him, right? Wrong. 

His spidey-senses won't shut up. 

_Dangerdangerdangerdangerdanger. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout._

Alex grabs Peter's collar, pushing him against the wall, stench of alcohol on his breath. 

"You're a little fucking fag, aren't you?! May hates you! She's always complaining about you and saying how she wishes you weren't here! You're a fucking nuisance. Why are you still here?! Why do you even bother?" Alex yells. Peter doesn't see it coming, fear coursing through his veins and blocking out his spidey-senses, not letting himself believe it would come to that. Alex's fist hits Peter in the face, sending the teenager's head sideways, banging against the wall behind him. Peter's breaths are coming in short bursts, eyes wide and darting around the room, trying to find an escape. 

But Alex's hand slips up a bit, gripping onto Peter's neck instead of his shirt, pinning him against the wall. The older knees Peter in the stomach, making a small noise of pain escape the teen's throat. 

"Please-" Peter chokes out, fingers desperately clawing at Alex's fist as black dots dance across his vision. 

Alex continues screaming slurs at him, free hand punching him in the face, kneeing him in the stomach. 

"May's going to be home in a few hours. You're going to go out and not come back for the rest of the night. If you say a word about this, I swear to god I will kill your aunt. Don't test me," Alex finally growls, dropping Peter to the ground. 

Peter immediately curls in on himself, shaking as he coughs and coughs and coughs, spitting blood onto the carpet as tears escape the corners of his eyes. 

"Get out," Alex seethes, kicking Peter in the ribs once more for good measure then stumbling out of the room. 

Peter doesn't want to stick around to see what'll happen if he does, so he grabs his backpack off the floor and hurries as best as he can for the door. 

*

He ends up going to MJ's house. He's not sure why or if she'll even be home, but she won't ask questions about his bleeding and bruised face. 

He knocks on the door, leaning heavily against the frame as he waits. 

Finally, MJ pulls it open. Her eyes land on Peter's face then dart back into the house. She grabs Peter's arm and pulls him inside. 

"What the fuck are you doing here? What happened to you?" MJ demands, pushing him into her bedroom and onto her bed. 

Peter doesn't say anything, eyes trained on the floor carefully. He can't say anything or somethings going to happen to May. He just has to man up and pretend this isn't happening. 

MJ leaves the room then returns a few moments later with an ice pack. She presses it to Peter's nose gently, concern touching her face. 

"What happened?" She asks again. "Was this a spiderman thing?" 

He nods slowly, preferring lying to her over getting May into trouble. 

"Can I stay the night?" Peter chokes out, blood dripping from his nose. "Please. Don't want May to worry."

MJ sighs. "Fine. Just be out of here early so my parents don't get pissed."

*

It starts happening more and more and more. Every time May's out, Alex is screaming and beating up the teenager. Discipline, Alex always says as though it's no big deal, the kid needs his discipline. May always looks a little concerned when Alex starts getting a little rough in front of her, but he always says it's a boy thing, they're just playing. 

But everyone's seemed to notice how much more timid Peter's gotten. How Peter refuses to look anyone in the eyes because Alex told him not to. How Peter never speaks unless spoken to because Alex told him not to. How Peter doesn't go over to friends' houses because Alex told him not to. Unless Alex wants a night alone with May, in which case Peter goes out. 

He still sneaks out as Spider-Man whenever he can. Only whenever Alex isn't at the apartment or whenever he consults May in advance and she says she'll cover for him with Alex, though he's always pissed the next time he sees the teenager. 

His visits to the tower are fewer and farther between because Alex hates Tony Stark. It's the only time Peter will speak back, whenever Tony's mentioned, though even now he shuts up more often, picking and choosing his few battles against his aunt's boyfriend. 

Tony's seemed to notice the difference in Peter's behavior, though he hasn't mentioned it since the first time that Peter came by with the bruises and the timid, dulled personality. 

May figures it's from bullies and patrol, and Peter doesn't have the bravery to correct her thoughts, wishing he could protect her and himself from Alex, but he can't. He can only protect her. It's always a heavy threat looming over his every choice of words. If he says something, May's going to get hurt, there's no way around it. 

So he keeps silent, covers up the worse of his bruises, averts his eyes when others linger on his wounds, lets the lies slip through his teeth like they mean nothing. To keep May safe. To keep May happy. 

*

Peter's finally spending a weekend with Tony. Finally spending a couple days out of his house. He can barely sleep at home because his spidey-senses never stop going off anymore with Alex just a few doors away from him. 

He's excited to say the least, though he's worried Tony will question the ever present bruises on him. Especially after Alex found out Peter was spending the weekend with Tony. His left eye was swollen shut and he's pretty sure he's broken his nose at least 4 times and his ribs at least half a dozen times since Alex was brought into his life. 

At least he's got the fast healing to help, though that's even been slowed down because Alex rarely lets the teenager eat, so he normally skips breakfast and dinner in favor of granola bars hidden under his bed thanks to Ned who luckily didn't ask. 

Peter walks into the lab, unsure of every step he takes. Tony's working at a desk, hips swaying a little bit to the music playing softly in the background. 

Peter takes a deep breath, then knocks on the doorframe leading into Tony's lab. 

"Pete! Come on in!" Tony exclaims, eyes losing their sparkle when he sees Peter's bruised face. 

"Hi, Mister Stark. Thank you for having me over," Peter recites, keeping his manners in check lest he gets hit or something. He keeps his eyes well trained on the floor, refusing to look up. He's not allowed to look people in the eye. He doesn't deserve to be thought of as on the same level as anyone else. He's below. Always. 

"Hey, kid. You okay? What happened?" Tony asks, hands curling into fists. 

Peter takes a quick step back, out of Tony's reach, big eyes darting for an exit just in case. He wishes he trusted Tony more than Alex, but Alex is right. Nobody genuinely likes me. There must be some reason why Tony kept the teenager around. 

"Patrol," Peter chokes out, struggling to keep his voice even. 

"Karen said you haven't been on patrol since Tuesday. This would've healed by now..." Tony sighs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. 

Peter still refuses to look up, keeping his head bowed to Tony. His mentor hadn't asked a question, therefore he keeps his mouth shut. He knows the rules. 

"Is something going on, Peter? Be honest with me. Please. You've been lying to me for months, and I pretended it was fine. I tried to convince myself that I didn't care enough. But I do care. And something is obviously not okay. You're covered in bruises all the time even if you haven't been on patrol and you won't even look at me. What the hell is going on with you?!" Tony demands, voice raising in annoyance of having to try so hard to get a straight answer from the kid. It shouldn't be as hard as it is and Tony doesn't know what he's supposed to do. 

But obviously this wasn't the right thing to do as tears fill Peter's eyes and he stumbles another few steps away from his mentor. 

"Please-" Peter cuts himself off, knowing this deserves another beating. He's broken the rules. He's trying to talk back. He's crying. He's not allowed to do that. He's going to get hurt for this. 

Peter's breaths come in short bursts, hands shaking at his sides as he collapses to his knees, almost hitting the edge of the table in the process as he curls himself up to get away from the man. 

"Peter, kid, listen to me, okay?" Tony's voice is gentle, carefully soft as he closes the distance between the two of them once again. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here, remember? I'm never going to hurt you. Ever. You're safe. I promise. You just have to tell me what's going. Can I touch you?"

Peter nods quickly, having been deprived of physical attention for way too long, especially for someone like himself. He thrives on positive physical attention. 

Peter collapses against Tony's body when his arms wrap around the teen's shaking body, crying desperately into Tony's shoulder. 

Peter begins to apologize through his tears. Begging for something, but he's not sure what. But Tony hushes him softly, hating that Peter's in so much pain, refusing help for it. 

When Peter finallyconvinces himself to stop crying, he asks if he can just go to bed. Tony agrees, telling him that they'll talk in the morning. 

But when morning comes, Peter's gone, having only left a small note in the kitchen saying he was fine, just remembered he promised Ned he'd help him study. 

He can't take away May's happiness. He can't take away the peace having a second income has given May. He can't do that to her. He has to suck it up and hide it better. 

*

It's another month later, a month of abuse and pain and holding back tears until the middle of the night where he sobs into his pillow, before Peter finally sees Tony again. And it goes over well. Peter told his mentor he was getting bullied at school, but Ned found out and told some teachers who've dealt with the issues. Tony believed him. 

It's another month after that, a month of concealer and closing himself off even more and not being able to look anyone in the eye and flinching if anyone so much as raises their hand in his direction, before things somehow get worse. 

May was out working for the night, leaving Peter alone with Alex. Already not a good start. Add alcohol to the mix and Peter knows he's not making it out of this one unscathed. 

Peter had just gotten back from a long walk through Queens by himself, trying to find peace by himself, not having wanted to stay with Alex for any longer than he had to. 

But when he finally gets back, a couple hours later, he isn't expecting the scene in the kitchen. Alex is standing there, absolutely seething, more angry than Peter had ever seen him. The Spider-Man suit clutches tightly in one fist, a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. And Peter knows he's screwed. 

"What the fuck is this?!" Alex demands, voice quiet, too quiet. 

Tears are already welling in the teen's eyes, body trembling in fear. 

Alex let's out a scream of anger, chucking the bottle in Peter's direction. Peter barely manages to duck fast enough, the glass shattering across the wall behind him. 

"Please-" Peter mouths, not having it in him to make a single sound. 

Alex drops the Spider-Man suit on the floor, in the puddle of the alcohol by Peter's feet and Peter's too focused on pushing the suit out of the liquid lest it explodes or something, and doesn't notice Alex grabbing something off the kitchen counter before prowling towards the kid. 

Peter looks up at the footsteps, eyes wide when the light of the setting sun glints off the metal blade in Alex's fist. A knife.

Peter's not so sure he'll be lucky enough to make it out of this one. 

Alex uses Peter's fear that has him frozen in place as an advantage, grabbing the collar of Peter's t-shirt and shoving him against the wall. He holds the kitchen knife against Peter's throat and a shallow whimper escapes Peter's throat, scared that the bobbing of his Adam's Apple might get him killed against the serrated edge of the blade. 

Peter goes entirely still, tears falling down his colorless face as Alex seethes above him. 

Alex starts screaming obscenities at the teenager but none of them are understood, the fear rendering Peter uselessly unable to concentrate on anything other than the blade against his neck. One wrong move and he's dead. 

Peter feels the warm blood slowly sliding down his throat as the blade is pressed just a little bit too hard, recklessly hard against his throat. 

Finally, the knife is removed, thrown carelessly to the floor and then the beating once again begins, this one worse than any other. 

The same sentence repeating over and over again in the teen's head. 

_He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me._

Peter sobs and cries, desperate to be left alone once again, but now in his weak state on the floor, Alex ceases the opportunity. He grabs the knife again, eyes glinting maliciously as he waves the blade in Peter's direction. 

Peter hiccups, sobs never ceasing as he realizes he's facing death. For real this time. He can barely pull the breaths into his lungs and then the knife's coming towards him. 

It's entirely his spidey-senses that react for him, rolling out of the way of the knife and bringing himself onto shaky feet. The knife is embedded into the floor, Alex's finger nicked from the loss of balance. 

_He tried to kill me. He tried to kill me. He tried to kill me._

He races for his bedroom, heart pounding in his ears and in his stomach and in his throat. 

The kid slams the door shut behind him, locking it quickly with shaking fingers as he spins for the window. Only the find bars covering the exit. Alex must've put them there while Peter was at school. 

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout. Dangerdangerdangerdangerdanger._

Alex slams his shoulder against the door, the room shaking with the effort and Peter finds his phone tucked carefully under his pillow. 

It rings for too long. Peter can't stop shaking, pressing his back up against the door even though it hurts as Alex tries to push it open. 

Finally, "Pete? What's up, kid?"

"Mister Stark!" Peter gasps, sobbing shamelessly in relief. 

"Woah. Is everything okay, kiddo?" Tony asks, the extra noises on the other side ceasing at Peter's panic. 

"I need your help. Please. Please. I need you- I need help. Please. I can't-" Peter begs, heaving for breaths and scared of the twinges of pain in his throat. 

"Where are you? Says you're not online."

"Home. Please. Please. He tried to kill me. He's trying to- please. He's going to-" 

"Okay, kid. I'm on my way there right now. About 10 minutes out. How safe are you right now?"

Peter heaves for breath, coughing and sobbing harder when blood spews onto his floor. 

"Deep breath, kid. Calm down. I need to know exactly how safe you are and if you can get to safety if you're not," Tony says, voice demanding yet soft. 

"He put bars on the window, Mister Stark," Peter cries, before stopping to bring in another breath, easier this time because he knows Tony can fix this. Can fix everything. "He, uh, he's outside my door right now. Tryna get in. It's locked, but I can't get out. I can't go anywhere. He tried to _kill_ me."

"I'm almost there, kid," Tony swears, telling Friday to boost up the power even more. "I need you to get the heaviest thing in your room and block the door. Anything heavy. Pile it in front if you have to. Then hide under the bed. I know it's scary, but I'm almost there, Okay? You're going to be fine. I'll call you back when it's safe, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Peter nods slowly, then remembers Tony can't see him and verbalizes his acknowledgment. He hangs up, keeping the phone tightly in one hand as he quickly moves his desk in front of the door, followed by his bookshelf. He doesn't have a lot but he hopes Tony's fast enough. 

He crawls under the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and hands over his ears to block out Alex's screaming and the shuddering bangs of his body hitting the locked door. 

Peter seems to space out as soon as he hears the repulsors, so relieved that all he can do is curl up and cry underneath his bed. 

Finally, finally, his phone rings. 

Peter dives for it, pulling it up to his ear quickly, sniveling into the receiver. 

"You're safe, okay? You're safe now. It's been dealt with. I promise. I'm coming in now, Okay?" Tony says, knowing Peter won't be able to speak through his panic. 

Peter nods quickly, forgetting once again that Tony can't see it happen. 

He hears the door open, the Iron Man suit's strength easily pushing through the desk, the bookcase and the lock without an issue. 

Peter can't help the way his chest seizes up at the loud footsteps coming into the room. But his panic is quick to fade when he hears Tony's gentle voice. 

"Petey? You wanna come out from under there?" He says. 

Peter shakes his head quickly, having felt safe underneath his bed. Alex couldn't get him underneath his bed. 

"Come on, kiddo. It's safe now. Come on out."

It takes a while of coaxing to get Peter up onto his bed, but when he does, the teenager collapses into the billionaires chest, too tired to even say a word. 

Tony decides to let the kid sleep. He can explain everything once May is home. 

*

When May gets home, Tony and Peter have migrated to the couch, the latter refusing to let go of the former. 

Peter knows he has a lot of explaining to do after calling Tony to come save him because someone in his house was trying to kill him. 

He had never thought that Alex would go insane like he did. Maybe it linked back to the hatred against Tony. Maybe he had psychological problems that caused the want to kill the kid. Maybe Peter had just been an easy target and the beating hadn’t been enough to release his anger. 

All Peter knows is he’s never going to have to see Alex again. 

“What the hell happened?” May demands as soon as she walks through the door and takes in the sight of the glass shattered across the floor and the blood smeared everywhere. Normally Peter would’ve been forced to clean up this whole mess, but this time Alex wasn’t there to boss him around. 

She sees Peter. His small body curled up in Tony’s arms, covered in those godawful bruises she’s grown to hate, a bandage on his neck, tear tracks down his slightly swollen, puffy face. Eyes warily watching May’s movement. 

And Tony. Who still has an angry fire in his dark eyes, arms tight around Peter’s trembling body, a sort of tiredness in the way he holds his shoulders. There’s bloodstains on his old t-shirt and his knuckles are wrapped in the same type of bandage that’s on her nephew’s neck. 

“What happened?” she asks, softer this time. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, eyes looking down at his hands, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. 

“Peter...” Tony sighs, leaning his face down beside Peter’s, hot breath against the side of the kid’s face. “This isn’t your fault. Never was, never will be.”

“Where Alex? Is everything okay?” May asks, wandering closer. 

“I don’t know. I’ll give Peter some time to get his thoughts together and tell you what I know?” Tony suggests, pulling away from the younger to face May properly who sits down in the chair opposite the couch. “I got a call a couple hours ago. From Peter. He was freaking out. Crying about how someone was trying to kill him. I got the suit and told Peter to protect himself. To hide. I show up here, there’s a guy with a knife trying to bust into Pete’s bedroom. Fight goes down, no gory details right now. He knew Spider-Man, I guess. He was angry and crazy or something. Didn’t look right. But since he knew Spider-Man’s identity, it became a problem of Shield’s and he was taken into custody. Peter said he’d explain once you were here.” 

“Where was Alex during this? I thought he was staying here with you?” May questioned, eyes darting as though expecting the same sort of bad news like the night with Ben. 

Peter slowly lifts his head, eyes unfocused and far away like he’s lost somewhere deep in thought. “It was Alex.”

“Alex... Alex tried to kill you? My boyfriend tried to kill you?” May repeats, eyes widening in confusion. 

Peter snaps back to himself quickly, eyes welling with tears again. “You don’t believe me?”

“Hey, hey, woah. I never said that. Just explain. Everything.”

And so he does. He tells them about how Alex had been hitting him and screaming at him and abusing him for months and months and that today he just snapped after finding the suit. Peter cries. May cries. Tony cries. 

“Why wouldn’t you say anything?” May asks, moving from her chair to the couch to sit next to her nephew. 

Peter sniffles, rubbing his flushed nose on his hoodie sleeve. “He said he was going to hurt you too if I told... You were so happy, May. I couldn’t take that away from you. You were so so happy and you stopped working overtime and you started dressing up again... I hadn’t seen you that happy since Ben. I couldn’t take it away from you... not again.”

“Again?” May exclaims. “What happened to Ben was not your fault, Peter. One day I will have said it enough that you’ll understand. It wasn’t your fault. I was happy just the two of us, and sure I was happy to have a second income and a boyfriend, but you’re more important to me than those things ever will be. You need to get it through your skull.

“What if you had died tonight, Peter?” May says, taking Peter’s hand and running her thumb over his knuckles. “What if you had died? What would have happened if I had came home to find you.... like that and Alex? I can’t lose you too, Peter.”

“I know, May... I know. I get it. Trust me, i do. I just didn’t want to see you getting hurt. I’m Spider-Man. I should’ve been able to take it.”

“You’re still a kid, though. You’re still 16 year old Peter Parker,” Tony murmurs, almost unheard. 

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to. Never, ever put yourself through something like that again. Ever, okay?” 

Peter nods, slowly lifting his head. He forces himself to make eye contact with May, despite the rolling pain in his stomach as his body subconsciously tended as though he still expects to get hit. He drops his gaze again, nodding once more. 

“Did he tell you that?” Tony asks, trailing off as though he didn’t want to continue. “Did he say you can’t look people in the eye?”

Peter nods, feeling ashamed. 

“What rules did he give you?” May asks, jaw clenching. 

“Can’t look people in the eye because I’m not on the same level as anyone else. I’m always below. Can’t talk back. Can’t leave unless I get permission. Can’t eat food from home. Can’t cry. Can’t ask for anything. Don’t speak unless spoken to,” Peter recites, focusing on his twisting, clammy fingers. 

“Peter, listen to me, okay? None of that is true. Don’t follow any of that. You’re allowed to speak whenever, ask for anything, eat whatever you want, do whatever you want. Alex is no longer here to tell you what you can and can’t do. You’re safe now. You’re never going to have to go through anything like that ever again. I swear, okay?” Tony says, arms tightening around Peter’s small body. 

“We love you, okay, Peter?” May says, squeezing the kid’s hand. 

Peter nods and offers a small smile in return. A small step, but one towards recovery.


	8. 8-Parties

Okay I've seen this oneshot idea used a lot, but hopefully I put enough of my own spin on it that it's not the same as the others idc the last one took so long so I've gotta write something lmao 

Tony hadn't thought it would be a good idea to take Peter to the party with a lot of big business owners. Peter had barely thought it would be a good idea either, but both were too stubborn to admit their worries, locking them up inside their minds to let the anxieties brew. A bad trait passed from one to the other.

Tony hadn't never wanted to ruin Peter's innocent childhood by exposing him to the press, so he kept his child out of the limelight. Calling him an intern once he was old enough to pull off a teenager, once people started to notice them hanging out in public. Keeping bodyguards close whenever he took his kid out. 

But now Peter's 16 and deserves to see more into his Dad's career. He's always been shielded and now that the world knows him as Tony's intern, there was no reason he couldn't attend the party. 

So Peter got dressed up in a t-shirt with a science pun, a nice, fitting jacket overtop, tighter than his normal blue jeans, vans, and his messy curls partially tucked underneath a hat. He looked less professional than he probably should've, but it's not as though he just had a suit lying around like his dad does. 

Maybe Peter should've prepared more for the outcomes of the night, but he had been too busy catching up on some of his Calculus homework to even begin to think of the possibilities. 

The teenager slipped into the backseat of the slick car beside his dad, Happy in the front. Pepper never came to these events. She was never the public face despite all she did for the company. 

His dad sends him a smile, rolling his eyes. "I thought you were going to dress up."

"This is dressed up! I don't know what you expected," Peter retorts, rolling his eyes right back. He knows they'll have to entirely cut back on the easy banter once they're in the public eye, so they might as well get it out of the system while they're driving to the party.

"This is casual wear, Pete. You just put on a jacket," Tony says, tugging teasingly on the light fabric around his kid's shoulders.

"These are also nicer jeans," Peter says jokingly, though there's a hint of pride shining through in his father's eyes. 

"You ready for this?"

"Course I am," Peter says, though his knee won't stop jittering.

"You can back out at any time, kid. You know that. Say the word and Happy will take you straight home," Tony says, carefully looking over the kid for any signs other than his leg. Glad to find none.

"I think I'm ready. I want to do this. People might start to pry more if they don't see me in the public eye at least once and we don't want people to find out more than they have to. Just don't be a dad."

"What?" Tony gasps, looking offended. "Are you questioning my acting abilities?"

"Yes. One hundred percent yes."

Tony doesn't even realize what he's doing as he pushes one of Peter's stray curls back into place and fixes his hat.

Peter hits his dad's hand out of the way. "I told you! You can't do that."

Tony simply rolls his eyes in response.

*

They went over the rules a few more times on the way to the venue. Call for help if you need anything, don't talk to people who make you uncomfortable, don't take your eyes off your drinks, no drinking alcohol, be wary because people could want to take advantage, don't stray too far from the center, make sure you know where there Tony and Happy are at all times, etc etc etc. 

He knew the rules. Knew generally what he was doing. They'd been over the rules a thousand times before. 

He figured the atmosphere would feel like his high school. Loud, close, a little bit on the claustrophobic side, disorienting, anxiety-inducing. There's no good way to prepare for that sort of atmosphere, but Peter tried nonetheless to mentally prepare. 

*

It wasn't hard for Peter to fit in. He was naturally excitable about sciences and maths and innovation. It was incredible for him to be meeting all these people with such big, bright ideas. 

He introduced himself as Peter Parker, personal intern of Tony Stark. Everyone kind of stared at him funny at that one, but later Tony would sweep by and confirm it with one of his easy, dazzling smiles. 

Peter was like a little puppy, bouncing around with big eyes and throwing his full attention on everyone who would talk to him like an adult. He hated the ones who would look at him like he was an incompetent child who would never understand their ideas or visions. 

After a couple hours of wandering around the venue, easily squishing through the sea of bodies, he goes to get a drink from the open bar. 

"Just a soda," he says, smiling brilliantly at the woman behind the counter. 

"No alcohol?" she says, pulling a glass from under the counter. 

"No. I'm 16. Just a pop," Peter says again, "this is fantastic."

"That's nice, kid. Here you are," she says, pouring a can of sprite into the glass and sliding it across to the kid. He grins, thanking her quickly for he drink. 

He's onto his third, happily rambling to the bartender who seems to take a liking to the kid as he hurriedly talks about some of the things he's seen and some of his own ideas. 

Soon, a tall man is sitting next to him ordering beer. 

"What's a kid like you doing in a place like this?" The man asks, easily popping the top off his bottle and taking a swig. 

He's big, broad shoulders and tall. Dirty blond hair falling around his angular face and tan skin, letting his blue eyes pop against the colors. He's wearing a suit and intoxicating cologne that makes Peter's stomach twist and knot, telling him to get out, though he isn't sure why. 

"I'm not a kid. I'm 16," Peter retorts, unsure why he wants to fight the guy on this when normally he'd just move on. 

"I know. You're Peter Parker, right? Word has it you're Stark's personal intern?"

Peter nods, pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn't want this guy to start prying at his personal life. 

"I'm Jameson. Grant Jameson," he introduces, holding out a hand with perfectly groomed cuticles. 

Peter takes it as his eyes grow into saucers. "Jameson? Like the Jameson? I'm a huge fan of your work!"

"Really? Stark let's you look at my work?" Grant says, a humorless laugh leaving his big mouth as he holds the kid's hand too tight, too long. He finally lets go and laughs again. "Me and Stark have a pretty big rivalry going currently. Not pretty."

"I know," Peter admits, suddenly finding his glass interesting as he refuses to look up at the man. 

"I had an important question for you, Peter. I heard you're pretty smart and I'm looking for my own intern. Someone smart and cute like you could be a great help to the team," Grant says, leaning closer to the kid. 

Peter stumbles backwards, almost falling as he gets off the chair and away from Grant's alcohol stained breath. Guess the beer wasn't his first drink. 

The same manicured hand grabs his arm, too tight, dragging the teenager back to the other man. 

"I thought we were having a conversation. Have a drink. 2 tequila sunrises for us," Grant says with a big smile at the bartender who looks at Peter in worry. 

Peter nods quickly, sitting up in the chair again, too scared at making the man angry with him, and the hand is still gripping onto his arm, hard enough to leave bruises. 

The woman turns to make their drinks and Grant turns back to Peter. 

"So, kid, what do you say about my offer?"

"I, uh, I can't. I have, uh, Mister Stark is, um, I have to stay with Mister Stark," Peter chokes out in return, heart racing violently in his chest as he looks over Grant's head to try to spot Tony. 

"Mister Stark this, Mister Stark that. I bet he doesn't even pay you well. I can give you double, no triple what he gives you," Grant suggests, grabbing the drinks from the counter and sniffing at them both before giving one to Peter. "Smells stronger. Drink up. You need to loosen up."

The hand squeezes tighter on his arm at his hesitation, and he quickly takes a sip from the bright drink, nose crinkling at the obvious strong taste of alcohol. 

"I, uh, I'm 16. I can't- I can't drink," Peter stutters quickly, trying to push the drink back to the bartender, but she's down on the other end, giving drinks to someone else. 

Grant shakes his head with a coy smile. "No one has to know. And with how much Stark drinks, he'll probably be proud if you got some tequila in you."

"He, um, he doesn't drink- doesn't drink anymore. He, uh, he stopped. He's sober," Peter argues to the best of his abilities as he forces himself to take another little sip of the orange drink in front of him. 

"Like I believe that." Another harsh laugh. "Thatta Boy!" He claps the kid on the back who flinches forward at the unfriendly contact. 

Peter doesn't respond, falling submissive to the angry touch faster than he'd wished he would've. He's scared of getting hurt and ruining Tony's reputation. If Tony can't even protect his personal intern, how is he supposed to be Iron Man and protect the world. 

"Drink up. Nice and faster. Let's go," The man demands, hand moving from his arm to his knee quickly, squeezing just as tight, maybe tighter. An angry red handprint is left behind on his arm. 

Peter flinches again, tears welling up unwillingly in his eyes, hands beginning to shake as he grabs the drink from the counter again and takes another tentative sip under watching eyes. 

"Good boy," The man says, moving the hand up his leg just a little bit, a soft noise of fear leaving the teen's throat at the humiliation of the situation. 

Peter wants to beg to be left alone as his stomach flips and tightens, fear running his veins cold. He trembles a little bit in fear, swallowing heavily as he continues sipping on the drink. He knows he's a lightweight, the tequila's going to make him tipsy faster than he'd like, especially at the rate he's drinking it. 

The man grins again, a sick look in his eyes. "I'm so glad I got to get my hands on you."

The words alone cause the tears to spill over, choking out unheard pleas to be left alone. His breathing hitches, whimpering quietly in fear as Grant's hand moves another inch up Peter's thigh. 

"I'm just a kid- I'm sorry. Please. Please just- just leave me alone. Please," Peter cries, eyes wide and searching for an escape. 

He stands quickly, trying in vain to dart out of Grant's reach, but the other man stands and grabs Peter by the hair. The teen cries out, feet struggling to make purchase on the floor as pulled back to the counter by his curls. 

"Where do you think you're going? Where's Stark now, huh? Where's your precious Stark now?" Grant growls, slamming Peter's head down on the wooden countertop. The noise of the child's nose cracking followed by the cry of pain is enough for eyes to turn towards the shaking boy being pinned against the bar. 

The pressure on his back suddenly disappears and the kid collapses to the floor, curling up as he cries, entire body trembling. 

It's a few minutes before Tony returns, a few of his knuckles split and bleeding. 

He cups Peter's face, using the pad of his calloused thumb to wipe away the continuous onslaught of tears. 

"I'm sorry I didn't come find you earlier. I should've been worried. I'm so sorry. I've got you, kid. You're okay now. I'm sorry," Tony murmurs, pressing his forehead against his son's, body curled protectively over the kid. 

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry- he- he-" Peter sobs, gripping his dad's shirt tightly. 

"Shh. You're okay now. You're okay. I've got you. Let's get you home, okay? I've got you," Tony reassures, chest heaving with his buried anger. 

"Dad- Dad, I'm sorry- I- I-"

"Shh. It's okay. I've got you. It's okay now. You've got nothing to apologize for. C'mon, Happy's bringing the car around."

It takes a little bit of convincing to get Peter out from under the counter and then it takes a while to actually get Peter out of the packed building, but most people made space once they saw Peter's bleeding nose and his crying eyes. 

Peter ends up crying himself to sleep against his dad's chest once he was safe inside the car. 

*

When Peter wakes up, his nose is still aching along with his cheekbone and his stomach is still in knots. 

He immediately collapses out of bed and races for the bathroom, heaving up everything he’d eaten. His head is throbbing and he wants his dad. 

“Dad?” Peter whines, knowing his voice won’t reach his father, but the AI seems to understand and contacts Tony that Peter’s awake. 

Only a few moments later, Tony’s walking into the room, a sad sort of anger on his face. 

“Hey, kiddo. How’re you feeling?” he says, sitting down on the floor beside the pale kid. 

Peter shakes his head in return, curling up in his dad’s lap for comfort. 

“I’m sorry for what happened. You don’t have to come to another party ever if that’s what you want. That guy was a dick. I don’t know why he’d ever want to hurt a kid,” Tony murmurs, fingers carding through his child’s hair. 

“I was... I was so scared. I thought he was- I thought he was going to-” Peter breath hitches as a few tears follow the curve of his nose. 

“I know, kid. I know. I’ve been working on a watch with an emergency button that will send a distress signal to me if you tap it in the right sequence. I just... when I saw him hurting you like that..”

Peter sniffles quietly. “I was so scared.”

“I know, kiddie. It’ll never happen again, okay? I’m so sorry,” Tony whispers, obviously guilty as he leans down to press a soft kiss to his kid’s forehead. 

“Not your fault. I’m okay. I just... I was really scared. He wouldn’t let me go and he- he kept saying that I was- that I was a good boy for drinking it and- and he kept- he kept saying I was cute- and- and-” Peter says, trembling slightly in his dad’s hold. 

“I know, kid, I know. You’re okay now. It’ll never happen again. I promise. Nobody’s ever going to make you feel like that ever again. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kid. I’m here and I’m not letting you go.”


	9. 9-Gunshot Wounds

{Powerless Peter. Peter is Tony’s bio son}

Tony sat waiting. He felt like he'd been there for weeks, months, years. Sitting in the same chair. Metal chair arms biting into his skin. It's cold, but he's gone numb to the cold. Ice running up his hands, leaving him frozen. 

Empty coffee cups fill the garbage can beside him, not all his, but a lot of them. Bitter taste left behind on his tongue. 

Hospitals don't have a sense of time. A clock on the wall. Ticking and ticking and ticking, but as the hours pass, it's hard to tell whether it's night or day, let alone what day of the week it is. 

His shirt is still covered in bloodstains. His child's blood. 

It's still under his nails, but washed off his palms. 

He gets sad, pitiful stares from all the others in the waiting room as they pass by him. Watching him with his fidgeting fingers, bouncing knee, empty eyes holding back a torrent of emotions, bloodstained and waiting for news.

He called Steve after it happened, spacing out and hearing static. Steve tried to help him, but he was away at a mission and couldn't be back until later. He called Pepper, but she's been busy as well. Meetings across Europe. He called Nat, but she's in Russia for some spy things. So he's by himself, desperately waiting for news on whether or not his child is going to be okay. 

The lobby's emptier than it's been in a while. There's an old man lounging in a chair casually. His eyes trace across the ceiling back and forth and back and forth. He's here because his daughter's husband is getting knee surgery. His daughter is out currently, getting some sleep and visiting her children. 

There's a family. A man and 2 children. All asleep. The wife is getting an ultrasound for some issue the baby's been having. They couldn't get a babysitter in on time. 

There's a grandmother and her grandson, also asleep in one of the chairs. The grandson's parents are having a baby and the grandson wanted to be there for it. He wasn't allowed in the room so the grandmother arrived to watch over him in the lobby. 

And finally there's a teenage boy, waiting to see if his younger brother is going to be alright after a car accident occurred. Their parents couldn't be here, away on business trips, but on their way home. 

And then Tony. Who isn't sure how long he's been there, drinking coffee like his life depends on it. Isn't sure how many people have arrived and left while he's been waiting to see if his son survived. Isn't sure how many times he looked up when a nurse walked in, just to be disappointed that it wasn't for him. Isn't sure how many people he's seen cry, wondering if that'll be him soon enough. 

He doesn't remember much of what happened. 

There was a gunshot and then blood and his child crumpling to the floor. 

He can’t seem to remember why or what was happening. All he can remember is watching his child collapse across the room, scared and confused and in pain. 

Watching the blood slowly pour from his child’s chest, eyes wide. Scared as he reached out for his father. 

He remembers watching his kid’s eyes lazily wander over the room, unfocused and full of tears. 

And then there were sirens and flashing lights, the scent of cleaning supplies in the back of the ambulance. And then the waiting room. 

The never-ending waiting room. 

He’s seen happy news, sad news, and news hidden behind doors. He’s seen people walk out of the hospital crying and some smiling proudly. He’s seen families get told that it’s a boy! And families get told that their loved one hasn’t made it. He’s seen blood and tears and smiles and laughs and hugging whether it be sad or happy. 

He’s seen everything except for his son. 

He hadn’t gotten any news on whether or not his kid was okay. He didn’t even know if his kid was still alive, fighting for every breath or not. He didn’t know anything other than the 4 walls of the waiting room, beige colored with pictures of flowers. He knows that if he ever gets out of this place, he’s going to throw out all of the pictures of flowers in the house. Get rid of them all. He never wants to remember this if he gets to walk out of here with his kid. 

After a while, Tony’s considering getting another coffee, a nurse walks in. 

Tony’s head immediately looks up, following the woman’s movements. 

“I’m here for Toby Wittson?” She says, sounding exhausted. 

The teenage boy stands, eyes becoming wild with worry. “He’s my brother. I’m Shawn. Is he okay?” 

The nurse’s smile makes her look decades younger as she walks over to the young man. “He’s doing just fine. He’s asleep right now but your welcome to see him.”

Shawn lights up in a smile, reminding Tony too much of the kid he’s still waiting on. 

Just as the pair is about to leave, Tony jumps to his feet. “Please. Please, my kid. It’s been... it’s been so long... Please. I need something.”

The nurse smiles again, softer and gentle, tired. “Who’s your kid, sir?”

“Peter. Peter Parker. He was... he was shot. In the chest. I just- I need to know if he’s okay,” he pleads, hands clasped together. 

“Peter... My friend was with him in surgery. I’m not supposed to say anything, but he’s out of surgery. It was very touchy and it still is. Even the smallest of things can put him into cardiac arrest. Constant supervision. Unfortunately, you’re still not allowed to visit him, but we’re trying our best. If he’s still not doing good in 3 days, they’re probably going to send him to a better hospital to care for him. I’ll remind them that you’re still here and waiting, but I suggest you head home and take care of yourself for a few days,” the nurse explains kindly, fiddling with her long blond hair. 

“Thank you,” Tony breathes, shoulder finally relaxing since the first time he’s been here. 

He finally calls Steve again, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatens to overtake him. 

“Tony? It’s been 5 days. Where have you been? What’s going on? Is Peter okay?” Steve demands, soldier voice almost wavering. 

“5 days?” Tony echoes in confusion. He hadn’t realized how long he had gone without food or sleep or showering. “Um, yeah. Im still not allowed to see him, but surgery’s over.” 

Tony relays all the information back to Steve just to get it out of his system. He doesn’t want to have to bear the weight alone. 

“Come home for tonight. Shower, eat, drink water, sleep. I’ll pick you up and drive you back in. I just got home a couple hours ago,” Steve says, movement shuffling on the other end of the phone. 

“I don’t want him to have to wake up by himself,” Tony admits softly. He can feel the stares of the other people in the lobby watching him carefully. “There’s à public shower here. If you can just bring me some clothing and food, that’d be great.”

“Peter’s going to be angry when he wakes up and finds out you haven’t been sleeping because of him,” Steve reprimands, but Tony knows he’ll give in. 

“If he wakes up, Steve. If.”

*

He’s showered, eaten, drank and is now back at his bench. The old man has left, presumably with his family, and the father and 2 kids are awake. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear...” The man starts, standing and crossing the room to slump down in the chair beside the billionaire. 

“Me too. Sorry about your wife,” Tony says,rubbing his eyes again as he continues sipping on water. 

“No, she’ll be alright. So will the baby. They just want to keep her overnight to make sure nothing changes. What happened to your kid if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Got shot. In the chest,” Tony responds, sniffling to keep the emotions at bay. 

“I’m sorry. The world is a cruel place. I’ll pray for him,” The man says, offering a smile. 

Tony’s not religious, barely believes there’s a god up there, but having someone say they’ll pray, it means the world to Tony. 

“Thank you,” Tony says, the words barely leaving his mouth, rough and scratchy as he holds back the tears. 

The man smiles again, nodding his head before rejoining his children across the room. 

*

“I’m here for Peter Parker?” A nurse says, 3 days later. 

Tony immediately stumbles up to his feet, eyes wide and worried like always. 

“That’s me. I’m his dad. Is he okay? Can I see him?” he asks, desperation coloring his voice. 

The nurse smiles gently, in that way all nurses do. “Of course. Follow me. He’s still a little bit touchy, we’ve got to be very careful. His heart is still weak, but improving by the hour. Also, I should warn you, he might not fully be there for the conversation. He’s still pretty drowsy from the pain meds.”

“Thank you,” Tony practically sobs in relief, hurrying after the nurse, desperate to see his child. 

He should’ve prepared more for the scene he was going to witness, should’ve mentally prepared for the anguish to rip through his chest for his poor kid. 

His curls are soft and bouncy around his pale face, big Bambi eyes glazed over and lazily shifting around the room. He’s gotten skinnier, too skinny from only having the IV drip to provide him with nutrients. It’s so white. So pale. Even him like a sheet. 

But he’s alive and the heart monitor is beating steadily at his side and he manages a little smile, shifting up a little when he catches his dad’s eyes. 

“Peter,” Tony breathes, barely able to get the words out of his shaky lungs. 

A few tears follow the curve of his nose, cutting tear tracks through the pale. 

Peter lifts up a limp hand, reaching for his dad. He opens and closes his small fist, looking like a little child, the signal for Tony to come comfort him. And he does. 

He sits in the chair beside Peter’s bed, the nurses disappearing out and mumbling they’ll be close if he needs anything. He wraps his calloused hand around his kid’s, eyes watering as he realizes his baby’s okay. He finally gets to see his son’s wide beautiful eyes and soft smiles. 

“Hey, kiddie. Hey. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” He asks, squeezing his kid’s small hand. 

“I’m okay,” Peter murmurs, pulling his body closer to his dads. 

“I’ve got you, buddy. I’m right here. You’re okay. I promise,” Tony replies, pressing a kiss to his kid’s temple. 

“Stay,” Peter chokes out, heart monitor speeding up a little bit. 

“I’m right here, Peter. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m not going to leave you,” Tony says, just as gentle and patient as ever, holding his hand tightly. 

“Please don’t go. Please,” Peter cries, and Tony’s suddenly worried about what would happen if Peter panics too much. 

“I’m right here, Petey. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. I promise.” 

Peter chokes out a quiet sob, grabbing at Tony with his other hand. Tony immediately slides into the hospital bed, letting his son curl up against him with his big soft eyes and worry. 

“You were gone... For so long. I was all by myself. I was so scared. It hurt so bad and I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do. And you- you were gone. You weren’t there and I was scared, Dad,” Peter rambles, pushing his face against his Dad’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry, kiddie. I wasn’t allowed to come see you.. You weren’t doing too good. But you’re okay now. I promise and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

And Tony swears to himself at that moment, as his child cries into his shirt from how scared he’d been in the hospital, that he’ll never let his kid get hurt ever again. 

___   
I don’t have a lot of homework to do this weekend so I’ll hopefully be able to catch up then :))) 

Lyss


	10. 10-Guilt

Oof this is a lot softer than I originally was going to make it lmao hope yall enjoy 

Sitting on the edge of the building, maskless, Peter finally lets the tears fall, lets his armor collapse around him.  
  
He hadn’t been able to save the woman.  
  
He hadn’t been able to rescue everyone.  
  
He had let someone die.  
  
There had been a fire in a nearby apartment building, late at night. There was around 100 people to get out of the building and the fire was spreading fast.  
He tried as best as he could to get everyone out. Animals, children, elderly, adults, teenagers, everyone. He even managed to get a boy’s goldfish back to him. But there had been a woman. Trapped under a fallen beam and had died of the smoke inhalation and heat. Peter hadn’t realized until it was too late.  
  
He had been getting the last of the people out, the last family, when he heard the man screaming for his wife. He went back in as fast as he could, stumbling through the smoke and fire to find the woman still trapped somewhere in the building. His energy had already been depleted and he was tripping and getting dizzy from being inside the building too long.  
  
When he finally got the woman out, it was too late. She had already passed away in his grip.  
  
Normally, he would’ve stayed to talk to the kids and to the adults, to accept thanks and make sure nobody was forgotten.  
  
But he couldn’t listen to the man’s screams any longer as he cradled his deceased wife in his arms.  
  
He couldn’t handle the guilt.  
  
He couldn’t handle any of it.  
  
It was his fault.  
  
The woman had died on his watch.  
  


Peter ran a hand through his hair, pulling in another unsteady breath of air.  
  
The guilt was weighing him down and he wondered if it could pull him right off the roof of the building.  
  
The guilt like ice inside his gut and gasoline inside his mind, ready to explode at any moment.  
  
He knows it’s unfair, knows deep down that it can’t be his fault. He got 99% which is better than anyone else could do, but it wasn’t everyone. Somebody died.   
He didn’t save her.  
  
She had a husband. She had a job. A family. She was a real live person who simply isn’t anymore. Because of him.  
  
The sky’s too pretty for such a somber night. The moon is full and bright, painting the streets in the soft glow, helping the streetlights show even the darkest corners of alleys. The stars sparkle above him and subconsciously Peter spots some of the constellations he knows. Orion, the big dipper, the bull, the little dipper.  
  
Normally he can’t see the stars because of Queens’ pollution. But tonight, the stars are bright, twinkling above him.  
  
The wind sweeps past him, brushing his hair out of his face and freezing the tears to his cheeks. It carries the cries of the people from the apartment building, whether they’re happy cries or sad cries. The man’s cries stand out from the rest of them, angry. Devastated.  
  
He can’t blame the man, he had lost the most important thing to him.  
  
Peter knows how it feels. After losing so much throughout his life, he knows how it feels to be devastated like the man is. To be angry that they got taken from you. To be so guilty that it was them instead of you.  
  
Peter gets it. He understands.  
  


He tugs his mask back on, needing someone to talk to. So, he opts for his second closest friend, Karen.  
  
“Hey, Karen?” he says, voice dropping to barely above a whisper.  
  
Karen takes the hint and drops her voice as well. “Yes, Peter? Your heart rate is elevated, if this continues for more than 5 minutes, I’m required to contact Tony Stark.”  
  
“Am I a bad person, Karen?” Peter asks, sounding small. He stares down at the sidewalk stories below his swinging feet.  
  
“You lock up bad people, Peter. You haven’t locked yourself up,” she says.  
  
“I’ve done bad things, Karen. I’m a bad person. I feel like a bad person,” he replies, letting the breeze brush past him gently.  
  
“Friday has informed me that Boss has a folder of videos and pictures dedicated to you and your accomplishments,” Karen says. “That does not sound like a bad person to me.”  
  
“He does?” Peter asks, looking up suddenly. He can see Stark Towers from the building he’s currently sitting on. The lights are still shining from most of the floors of the tower, like a beacon calling me home.  
  
“Yes. It currently has 102 videos and 253 photos. He also has a folder dedicated to Spider-Man with 187 videos, 84 photos, and 92 news articles,” Karen informs, and to Peter and his soft loving heart, it sounds like she’s smiling somehow.  
  
“He does? That’s...” Peter trails off, unable to find the word for how grateful he is for Tony.  
  
“Designing the quickest route to Stark Towers. Boss is in the lab.”  
  


*

  
Peter’s nervous once he gets to the tower with wide eyes and tear tracks down his face. There’s still burns on his arms and hands and legs from the fire, but he’s forgotten about the sting. The suit isn’t fire proof yet.  
  


“Mister Stark?” he calls out softly, not wanting to sneak up on his mentor who looks busy with projects.  
  
“Hey, kid. What’s up? Did something happen on patrol?” Tony says, turning around with a gentle smile and reassuring gaze.  
  
And that’s all it takes for Peter to burst into tears again.  
  
Tony’s quick to gather his kid up in his arms, pulling him into a tight hug.  
  
“Are you hurt? Did something happen?” Tony says, falling into his dad attitude (his daditude? Lmao)  
  
Peter shakily explains the story of what happened, apologizing every time he takes a breath as though believing he should be the one who stopped breathing, not the stranger.

  
“That was not your fault, kiddo. You did so so good. I’m so proud of you all the time when you save people,” Tony reassures, pulling away from the teenager to look him in the eyes. “You can’t save everyone, Pete.”  
  
“The man was so upset though,” Peter cries. “He was crying and screaming. He lost the love of his life.”  
  
“Boss,” Friday speaks up. A screen pops up beside the pair. “I think you’d like to see this.”  
  
It’s a tweet from just a few minutes ago.  
  


@\r.reddinson1987:  
Spider-Man disappeared too quick for me to thank him. My wife passed away this evening and I haven’t quite come to terms with it, but he saved our daughter. He saved my 3-year old daughter from getting hurt in the building. He saved everyone he could and for that I’ll forever be thankful <3<3<3  
  


“See? You he’s not alone. He’s got his daughter. He’s not holding a grudge. It’s not your fault. You tried so hard. You can’t save everyone, but you do a damn good at job at saving people.”  
  
“Boss?” Friday interrupts again.  
  
“What is it, Fri?” Tony says, rolling his eyes a little bit.  
  
“Karen informed me that Peter would like to see your folders for him. The Peter Parker Protection Squad folder and the Spider-Baby folder. To remind Peter he isn’t a bad person.”  
  
A light blush touches Tony’s face and he glares at the ceiling. “He wasn’t supposed to know about that… Fine, c’mon, kid. Go get some hot chocolate. We’ve got a lot of things to sort through.”  
  
Peter grins and races off to his bedroom to change out of his suit into a pair of Thor pajama bottoms and an oversized Star Trek T-shirt.  
  


When he arrives to the living room with hot chocolates, Tony’s waiting for him in the heap of blankets on the couch.  
  
Peter sits and Tony throws an arm over Peter’s shoulders.  
  
“You’re a good kid, Peter. The best kid. You’re not a bad person.”  
  
“Thank you, Mister Stark.”  
  
And they start watching all the videos of Peter’s achievements and his cute antics and his pranks and him falling asleep literally anywhere in the lab. Pictures upon pictures of science fair awards and decathlon prizes and internship works. Pictures of him drooling on his calculus homework in the lab. Pictures of him falling asleep against Tony. Pictures of him grinning and smiling and laughing. Pictures of him saving people as Spider-Man and as Peter. Pictures of him being happy.

(Sorry this is short lmao ive gotta start catching up on these and 3k words is no longer entirely realistic. Might pull an all nighter tonight and get a few up. Sorry for the delay)


	11. 11-Stranded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry about the delay. I've been sick and had homework to catch up on but winter break just started for me so hopefully I'll be able to catch up soon!!

Peter was so excited to be going on a trip with Mister Stark. May was visiting relatives in Italy, but didn't have the money to take Peter. So the kid decided to bug Tony who was being forced to fly, on a public plane, to southern Florida for meetings.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as it sounds to take the kid anywhere. Stupid Parker luck.

*

Peter is bouncing in his seat, eyes wide with excitement, looking around the first class section with awe. There's not many others there, just a few business men and woman working on laptops or sleeping.

"Chill, kid. This your first time on a plane?" Tony asks, rolling his eyes and buckling his seatbelt.

"Yes! I was supposed to go a couple years ago but then the Oscorp thing happened and I had to skip the field trip thing. So yeah. First time," Peter explains, blushing softly at the intense stare from his mentor.

"Alright, kiddo. Well it's going to get pretty loud and freaky when we take off so I've got your sensory overload kit in my carry on for when we start moving plus I've got some snacks and some other foods in my backpack for the long trip. You can order whatever you want to my tab. You've got a full collection of movies on your tablet and you've got all your homework in your backpack if you're up for it," Tony explains, shuffling through his carry on at his feet and pulling out the sensory overload kit for specialized headphones and sunglasses to stop the sensory overload before it happens.

"Thanks, Mister Stark!" Peter grins in response, excited to e spending the weekends with his mentor.

*

The first half of the plane ride goes perfectly fine. Peter and Tony had watched a movie, and now the kid has fallen asleep, finally falling from his excitement high.

The beginning of the second half is where problems arise.

"Attention passengers! Attention! This is your captain speaking. There has been some unexpected bad weather on Route and I don't believe it is safe to continue flying. We will be making an emergency stop at the next airport until the weather tides over. All tickets will be refunded or exchangeable if you wish to not wait. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but your safety is our number one priority. Thank you for understanding," a man says over the intercoms.

Peter's eyes widen and he sits up, fingers curling into small fists.

Tony immediately puts a hand over Peter's, unclencing his hands so he doesn't hurt himself.

"It's fine, Petey. This sort of thing happens all the time. Probably a blizzard or something. I'm sure the planes will be up and running in the morning," Tony reassures, letting the kid curl his fingers around Tony's.

"I just... My parents-" the words are too soft, too heavy coming out of the teenager. 

"Hey, we're going to be fine. I swear. I wouldn't have taken you if I didn't think it was safe. We'll get a hotel room and eat some takeout and sleep and in the morning we'll hop on a plane either going back home or continuing to Florida. It's going to fine," Tony reassures again, squeezing his kid's hand.

Peter nods, offering a small, tight smile in return. 

  
Turns out, it wasn't quite so simple. 

The airport they were stopping at was a small airport in Virginia. The Newport News-Williamsburg International Airport. No hotel in the building and very few places for food and drinks. Small. Dense. Freaky in a way an airport is. 

Airports are places that feel timeless with people bustling around, checking watches, charging devices for long flights, sleeping in uncomfortable chairs, no clocks on the walls other than the big boards with the flights. 

All of which say postponed or cancelled, but the airport isn't busy. It's not jam packed with people. Most are driving out to the city, but Tony knows he can't do that. There's too big of a chance of him being recognized and paparazzi and photographers, and with how anxious Peter seems, Tony doesn't want to risk it. 

So they find a relatively nice spot where they can sit where they can hear announcements for any plane's departure if need be, but where there's not many people in sight. No other loud noises to make Peter too anxious or worse, send him into a sensory overload. 

The bench isn't comfortable. Wooden, cold, no back support. The airport seems to have their air conditioning up too high so Peter's got goosebumps within minutes. With the spider bite came the inability to thermoregulate as well as regular people, so despite the sweater and the thick sweatpants, he's trembling by the time the first hour passes. 

"Hey, kiddo? You want me to go buy you a blanket? You're shaking," Tony finally asks, looking up from his Starkphone where he had been talking to his friends about what was happening and trying to see if his meetings could get postponed.

Peter flushes at the words, wrapping his arms tighter around his stomach to try to conceal his obvious shivers. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not. Come here," Tony sighs, opening his arms for the teenager. 

Peter doesn't need to be told twice, diving into the hero's arms and burrowing his head into Tony's chest. Tony's arms wrap tightly around his kid's shoulders and back, trying to somehow push his warmth into the kid's body. 

They sit like that for a while, only shifting when Tony's back starts to ache in the awkward position of the bench. 

"You hungry?" Tony asks, ruffling the kid's hair. 

He pulls away and looks up with his big, bambi eyes. "Are you?"

Tony rolls his eyes. "I asked you first."

"Fine, yeah. A little bit. Fries?" Peter questions, body more relaxed than before from the much needed hug from his mentor.

Tony nods and pulls himself to his feet, back cracking with his movements. Tony groans as he stretches, glaring at the kid as though daring him to say something. 

Peter lifts his hands in surrender, a teasing smile on his lips. "I was definitely not going to say anything about how you're getting old."

Tony rolls his eyes again, he seems to do that a lot around Peter. "I swear to god, kid."

"That's not very nice, Mister Stark," Peter says, smiling innocently. 

"Where'd you get this sarcasm from?" Tony asks, shaking his head.

"I have absolutely no idea, Mister Stark. It definitely was not from you," Peter says, sticking out his tongue and giggling. 

"C'mere, kid. We've got a mission. Finding a place to buy fries."

*

An hour and a half later, the storm is hitting and Peter is not happy about that.

Peter would never admit it to Tony Stark. Would never admit it to Iron Man. That he had fears. That he was terrified of storms. After his parents died, he got freaked out every time a storm would hit. Thunder making him flinch and lightning making him squeeze his eyes shut for fear of seeing his parents in the light the electricity casts across the dark corners of the room. 

He was over the nightmares he used to get after his parents died. He stopped having nightmares after his uncle died, it was storming that night too. He's even stopped having nightmares from the Vulture. But when storms hit, it all comes back to him. He's forced to remember everything. 

He wasn't there when his parents died. He wasn't there when the plane crashed. But he saw it on the news. And he would get these weirdly realistic dreams from when it happened as though he knew the details about what had happened on the inside of the plane, seeing his parents screaming and crying as the plane took a nosedive. 

He was there when his uncle died. Watched the rain wash away the blood from the bullet wound on his uncle's chest. Watched the lightning illuminate Ben's pale, gaunt face, blood dripping from the corners of his lips. Watched as the flickering streetlight above showed the light leaving his family member's eyes. Remembered walking home in the rain. Every boom of thunder making him flinch, the noise sounding like the gun firing. Remembered walking into the house, not sure if he was crying or if it was just the rain cascading down his cheeks. Remembered the blood under his nails as the lightning flashed outside and illuminated his aunt standing out on the front porch, already having guessed what was happening somehow. 

Everything came back to him whenever it stormed.

If he were home, May would've taken him to the living room, wrapping him in a blanket and sitting him on the couch. She would've cuddled with him, made him hot chocolate and watched sappy movies to help him forget the storm brewing outside the house. 

The tower was nice because Peter was able to brush it off as a sensory overload and could go hide off in a sound proof room until the storm blew over.

But here, in the middle of nowhere, where the thunder rumbled the entire structure of the building. Here, where he didn't have May or a sound proof room or somewhere to hide off while he cried, he had to just hold on to his sanity and hope he could last out the storm. 

It was progressively getting colder because of the storm, and he used that as a reason to curl up against Tony, trying not to flinch too noticeably every time thunder shook the foundation. 

But soon, it was getting too much for him to handle and his body was beginning to tremble in fear and he knew he was on the brink of an anxiety attack. 

So he stood, pulling himself away from Tony's arms and trying to pull off a nonchalant expression. 

"Bathroom," he chokes out, wishing he sounded stronger and more put together. "Going to the... Going to the bathroom."

"Are you okay, kid? You look shaken," Tony says, standing again. His back cracks again with the movement and he can't stop the yawn that takes over him for a moment. 

"Yeah!" Peter exclaims too quickly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just going to go to the bathroom."

Before Tony has a chance to respond, Peter's already scurrying off. 

Peter's so grateful the bathroom is empty as he falls to the floor in one of the stalls, not even bothering to lock the door, not having the strength to reach up. 

The tears start falling and his breaths are few and far between, gasping for air. As the thunder rumbles through the floor again, vibrating through his body. 

A quiet sob escapes his parched lips and he quickly clamps a shaking hand over his mouth to silence his cries as he heaves to get a breath into his lungs. 

A flash of lightning throws light through the dingy airport bathroom and in Peter's haze of crying delusion, he sees his uncle. Sprawled out across the floor in a pool of his own blood, the thunder another gunshot echoing through the room. 

Peter barely turns in time, throwing up the fries and snacks from earlier. His back spasms with his heaves, coughing up the rest of the stomach acid that burns at the insides of his throat. His tears splash across the surface of the water and he struggles to pull in another breath. 

He's almost managed to get control over his breathing when the lights in the bathroom flicker. Peter's eyes dart up to the ceiling, pleading with any higher power listening to not let the airport lose power.

His Parker luck strikes again when the lights flicker again and don't come back on again. 

The room is thrown into darkness, clouds rolling across the sky outside the high windows. 

Peter sobs again, clamping a hand back over his mouth to try to hold himself together. 

His body trembles and his throat burns and he's not sure if his eyes are open or closed anymore and the smell from his vomit and the strong cleaning supplies assault his senses and he curses whatever higher power he had been praying to before. Not only an anxiety attack and hallucinations of his dead relative, he's gotta deal with a sensory overload as well?

Everything's too much. 

Too much for the small teenager curled up by himself in an airport bathroom. 

He pulls his hand away from his mouth to squeeze his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes as he gasps for air through his mouth, trying not to breathe through his nose but trying to breath around sobs as well. 

And the bathroom door opens. 

Thunder rumbles through the room again and Peter whimpers in fear, tucking his knees closer against his chest. 

"Peter?" the voice is quiet, not far from him either.

Lightning flashes through the room but this time, instead of seeing his uncle, he sees his father figure's worried brown eyes watching carefully, hands hovering by his shoulders as though too scared of touching him.

Peter dives for Tony, clenching his fists in Tony's shirt as he sobs into the crook of his mentor's neck, desperate for comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me, Petey? You know I wouldn't have judged you for being scared of storms. It's okay. I could've helped you," Tony rambles, clutching his kid close to his chest. With a free hand, he reaches out and flushes the toilet beside them, and then starts running his fingers through Peter's sweaty curls. "I've got you, kid. I've got you. I'm right here. I've got you."

Peter whimpers in response, tugging himself closer against the man's chest, desperate for comfort against his own mind as the thunder rumbles through the room. 

"The storm's almost over, underoos. It's okay. I've got you. It's all going to be okay," Tony murmurs, cradling his kid's head against his neck. 

The soft blue glow is comforting against the darkness of the room and Peter's able to hyper focus on the glow and hum of the arc reactor to protect himself from the storm outside. 

"Do you want Happy to come pick us up in a private jet? He can be here in just a few hours if that's what you want," Tony suggests, voice barely above a whisper as he soothes his child's fears.

"Wanna go home," Peter whines quietly. "No plane."

"It'll be a long drive, Pete. You willing to wait out the storm here while Happy drives down for us?" 

Peter hums softly in response, breathing in time with Tony and focusing on Tony's steady heartbeat. "Wanna sleep."

"Okay, kid. Okay. I've got you. You can sleep and when you wake up, the storm will be gone, okay? I've got you."

"I know," Peter responds, letting his body finally relax against the hero. "G'dnight."

"Goodnight, underoos," Tony says, sighing softly and pressing a soft kiss to the teenager's temple as he finally drifts off. And despite it being sort of gross to be sitting on a bathroom floor in the dark against the uncomfortable wall of the bathroom stall, Tony doesn't mind. He's just glad he was able to help his kid, glad his child is sleeping peacefully despite the storm raging on outside. 


	12. 12-Crash

{Peter is Tony's bio son.}

Tony had always been extra careful when it came to Peter. Keeping him out of the spotlight, making sure he grew up a normal kid, making sure either Happy or himself was around at all times in case someone found out about Peter's heritage, making sure Peter stayed safe. 

It was the most important thing he could do, keep his son safe. 

Sure Peter got a little fed up with his father's protectiveness, but he understood. After all, you'd never expect something to happen until it does. 

  
"You good, dude? You're looking pale," Ned points out as they board the school bus. 

The academic decathlon team is going on a field trip to a nearby museum as a reward for winning regionals.

Peter looks up, eyes a bit too wild, too far away for his friend's liking. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Ned picks a seat and Peter immediately sits beside him, not even a second thought to sit anywhere else. 

"Is this a Spider-Man thing?" Ned asks, voice dropping to a theatrical whisper and leaning in closer to Peter. 

"Just Spidey-Senses tingling, you know? It's probably nothing," Peter reassures, leaning his head back against the seat. "It's probably just having Flash this close to be honest."

Ned laughs quietly, but keeps his attention on his friend who has somehow gone even more sheet white. 

"Dude... You look like you're going to be sick," Ned points out, worry lacing his voice.

"He's right. You're looking green," MJ says, sliding into the seat across from them, book in hand. 

"Shut up," Peter groans. "You talking about it is not going to make me feel any better."

This gets the two to shut up pretty quickly. MJ sticks her nose in her book and Ned turns to the window, eyebrows still creased with concern.

  
A few minutes later, Ned's given up on being silent, rambling about everything from Star Wars to Captain America to Spanish homework to his mom. 

Peter's just progressively feeling worse, stomach twisting in knots and hands sweating profusely. At least he's got the comfort of his web shooters heavy around his wrists. 

"Peter?" Ned suddenly says. 

The boy's eyes snap open immediately, locking with his friend's. "What? What is it?"

"You tell me. You haven't stopped fiddling with your web shooters since we got on this bus. Should we be concerned?" Ned says, wide eyes searching Peter's face for some sign.

"I don't know. My spidey-senses won't shut up. Like danger or something. It hasn't been this bad in a really long time," Peter admits, eyes welling with his tears as he sucks in a breath. He's worried, unbelievably worried. What if something's happening and he isn't there to fix it?

"Should you be calling Tony? Get him to come just in case something happens?" Ned says. 

MJ's head perks up from her book, legs tightening against her chest. "What's going to happen?"

"I don't know. Peter's sensing danger," Ned responds.

"It could be nothing, guys. For all I know it could just be warning me that Flash is going to beat me up after school," Peter says, shrugging as his eyes dart across the scenery. 

"That happens most days. What if this is something important?" Ned asks, frowning harder, obvious anxiety rolling off him in waves.

"If something happens, you've got Spider-Man sitting next to you. Do you think there's any way in hell I'd let anything happen to you?"

MJ opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn't have time to say anything before there's a scream, a bang, shattering glass and then silence. 

Peter comes to only seconds after they crashed. 

A car swerved and the bus swerved in turn to avoid hitting the car and ended up flying off the bridge.

Luckily, the water wasn't too far from the bridge. 

Unfortunately, the water was deep and the bus was filling really fast. 

All the passengers are unconscious, wounds on foreheads and arms and legs, but nothing that looks life threatening to Peter. He's sure he's got a concussion himself and he's got a few shallow cuts on his arms and legs. 

He knows he has to do something. Immediately. 

So he gets to work. Not as Spider-Man, but as Peter Parker. His webs don't even work in water, something him and Mister Stark had been working on for the past couple weeks, but hadn't perfected a formula yet. 

He starts at the front, feeling an awful guilt weighing on his chest at the idea of leaving his friends in the bus, but he's gotta start with the driver because that's where a lot of the water is coming in.

The water's already up to his ankles and there's 8 people on the bus not including himself or the driver. 

Peter fumbles with the seatbelt for a few moments, heart beating erratically in his chest, before using a bit too much of his strength and ripping the belt in half. 

He wraps a tight arm around the man's waist and grabs onto a smaller girl in the front seat, Cindy. 

He's not entirely sure if he can swim without his arms and he's not sure how smart it is to take the unconscious bodies into the water, but he know he can't leave them in the bus to die. 

Peter uses his feet to kick out a big enough hole in the front window, cursing as the water pours in faster. 

Hugging the two people close to his body, he pushes out of the bus and kicks as hard as his legs can manage towards the far away surface, holding his breath. 

He gasps when he hits the surface, almost struggling to keep himself and the two others afloat as he kicks towards the shore just a few meters away. 

The teenager deposits the two people on the ground and dives back under, using his arms this time to push his body back towards where he sees the bus against the bottom of the lake.

The water is cold and seeps into his veins, gasping again when he makes it to the bus where the water's up to his hips now. He's not going to have time to save the other 7 people. But he's gotta try. 

Glass catches on his skin as he rips off his jacket, shoes and jeans to try to make himself more lightweight to swim faster. There's more blood than before his chest is heaving. 

He grabs the teacher and MJ this time, sobbing harshly when he realizes just how quickly the water is flooding into the bus. He doesn't have time to stop. 

He kicks and kicks and kicks, legs aching as it takes longer this time to get to the surface, muscles already aching. 

He drops the two beside the first two, coughing and coughing and barely giving himself enough time to recover before diving under again. 

When he reaches the bus, the water's up to his shoulders and he's still got 5 more people, 2 more trips. 

"I'm sorry," he cries to his best friend, knowing there's not enough time to get everyone out. 

This time he takes three people, knowing it's a risk, but a risk he has to take. Abe, Taylor, and Michael. All relatively smaller people. 

But it's a struggle to kick all the way back to the surface. This time, Peter inhales water, chest burning and eyes beginning to fill with tears as he barely makes it the surface. He pushes himself to swim to the shore, dropping the bodies beside the others and crying out as he realizes he's going to be too late, they're already going to be under. He's only got 2 left. Flash and Ned. 

And there's no way in hell he's leaving them down there to die. 

So he pushes his body to swim and swim and swim, knowing he's not even going to get the relief of breathing when he gets to the bus. 

Glass cuts into his limbs as he shoves himself back into the bus, finding the two boys, heads just above water and then they're under. 

Peter swims to the top, takes a deep breath of air and then ducks back under, grabbing the last two boys. 

The strain is unimaginable on his aching, freezing limbs as he begins to kick towards the surface again. 

It's too far, he realizes. He's never going to make it there. 

He changes route, swimming directly across instead of up. And finally he's in line with the shore, chest stuttering for air, burning and burning and burning. And he pushes the two bodies up, hoping against all hope that someone's up there to catch them and get them onto shore. The force of the push sends his own body the opposite direction, the world already spotting black at the lack of air and the cold.

Peter doesn't want to die. 

He doesn't want to die because his dad doesn't want him to die. 

His dad!

He reaches out, water filling his aching lungs as he struggles for air and presses the panic button on his watch just once before his strength sputters out entirely. The last thing he sees before his back hits the bottom of the lake is a bright light shooting towards him. 

  
*

  
Tony's in the middle of a meeting when the panic alarm goes off from Peter's watch. Tony doesn't even time to react before the suit is closing around his body and shooting towards Peter's location. 

He shot down into the water, fear running his veins cold and his skin hot, panic and panic and panic. 

And then he sees his kid, eyes shutting as his body relaxes on the lake's floor. 

Tony collects his kid in his arms, immediately shooting back for the surface, an ambulance called through Jarvis already.

When he gets to the surface he sees the group of people huddled on the shore. 9 of them. 

The ambulance has already shown up, having been en route from the call and Peter's pulled away from him, put on a stretcher and wheeled away. 

He tries to follow, tries to tell them that he's Peter's dad, but he's told to meet them there. 

The suit deposits him on the shore, and he recognizes MJ who's crying, something Tony never thought he'd see.

"MJ?" Tony calls out, voice hoarse with held back tears. "What the- What the hell happened?"

MJ sobs out and fingers clutching Ned's jacket let go as she turns to the hero. 

"Peter- He..." she takes a deep breath, stilling her panic. "The bus crashed. We swerved and went into the water. We passed out. Peter didn't I guess... When I woke up, I was already on shore and Ned and Flash had just hit the surface. Peter.. Peter didn't... He saved us."

"Are you all okay?" Tony asks, trying to keep his head screwed on alright despite the constant panic. 

A cry catches his attention and he sees a boy crying, body trembling, mouth dropped open. 

"I just- I can't believe... After everything, he still saved me?" the boy cries, eyes wild and searching. 

"You don't deserve it, Flash. He should've left you down there," Ned says, breathing heavily as he turns on Flash. 

"Why?" I ask. 

MJ responds, glaring at Flash through her tears. "Flash has been bullying Peter since middle school. And yet Peter still sacrificed himself for him."

"Tony?" It comes from Ned who's crying eyes are staring up at him with a wondrous awe. "Is Peter going to be okay?"

"I need to know if all of you are okay first. Is anyone hurt?" Tony says through clenched teeth. 

"No. No, we're all fine. Go meet Peter at the hospital. Please. Let us know if he's okay," MJ demands. Tony wouldn't have been able to decline even if he wanted to. 

The suit closes around his body again and he shoots off towards the hospital. 

  
*

  
Peter looks small, too small in the hospital bed. His face is pale, no color gracing his cheeks like there normally is, no vibrant aura surrounding him. Just pale. 

Sleeping, Tony reminds himself, he's sleeping. 

The doctors said he inhaled quite a bit of water and they had to drain his lungs of all fluids. There's still worry they might fill again with water, so Peter has to be under supervision for the next couple days, but Tony isn't too worried about that. He's sure Peter will pull through anything. 

But his kid looks so small in the big hospital bed. Pale. 

"Hey, kiddo. It's Dad. I'm here. You wanna open your eyes for me? I really need to see your eyes again. Gotta make sure you're okay in there, yeah?" Tony coaxes, squeezing Peter's hand tightly. 

The small hand in his twitches and Tony's heart picks up its pace. He twitches again and then groans quietly in pain before finally opening his eyes slowly.

He looks around the room, squinting until his eyes land on Tony and he smiles dazedly. 

"Daddy?" Peter slurs, eyes glazed over as he sniffles, head drooping further into his pillow. "Sorry I almost died again."

"That's okay, kiddie. You didn't die. You saved so many people, Petey. You did so so well. I'm so proud of you. I just wish you would've pressed the panic button sooner. You didn't need to do it all by yourself," Tony murmurs, offering him a gentle smile.

He giggles softly, sniffling a few more times as his eyelids droop shut again. "I forgot?"

"You forgot?" Tony repeats, frowning at his kid. 

Peter giggles again, even quieter than the first time. His face falls serious when he speaks though, "Wasn't an emergency until I couldn't swim anymore."

"You're allowed to ask for help even when you're capable of doing it yourself. It was a close call, Peter. Too close," Tony reprimands, but there's no bite to his voice. 

"I know. I'm sorry," Peter slurs, lifting his eyes lazily up to his dad's again. "Cuddles?"

Tony smiles, knowing there's no way he could say no to his child with his bambi eyes. He crawls into the hospital bed beside his kid and lets Peter snuggle up close to his chest. 

"I love you, kiddo," Tony whispers, pressing a relieved kiss to his kid's forehead. 

"Love you too, dadda," Peter slurs, passing out again in the safety of his dad's arms. 


	13. 13-Just a Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Infinity War Spoilers. Endgame Trailer Spoilers.}

  
Natasha runs her shaky fingers through her blond hair, eyes tracing across the screen. No one made it back from Titan. No one. They hadn't heard anything from Tony. And now half the population is gone... 

Bruce stands nearby, eyes glassy as he watches the faces passing over the screen of all the people deemed missing. 

The assassin watches Bruce carefully as he reads the names. There's no one they know on the screens until Bruce's head snaps up suddenly. 

"Peter Parker," Bruce reads out, a heaviness behind his voice that Natasha doesn't understand.

"Did you know him?" Steve asks, leaning against the doorway to the lab. His eyes are stained red and his hair disheveled, messy like everyone else was. 

"Yeah... Is he- God, I just- I can't believe..." Bruce chokes out, letting his head droop again, hiding his face in his hands.

"There's a lot of people here, Bruce. We can't let-" Natasha starts.

Steve cuts her off, taking a few steps forward. "How'd you know him?"

Bruce looks up, eyes glassy and sad. The others still didn't know the kid behind the mask, who fought them next to Tony Stark. Bruce hadn't been there, but later he became Peter's medic and helped him out in the labs sometimes. He got to know the kid as more than just Spider-Man. He knew Tony had gotten really close to the kid after everything. 

"Since he's... Since he's gone, I'm sure he'd be okay with telling you guys... He was Spider-Man," Bruce says, nodding once and then meeting Steve's bewildered stare. 

"I fought a kid?" Steve says, eyes wide as he frowns deeper.

"That's not the point, Steve," Natasha reprimands. "He's gone. Spider-Man's gone too. _Everyone's_ gone."

Bruce lets out a choked sob, heart clenching in pain. 

"Fri? Did Peter go to Titan? Was he with Tony?" Bruce asks.

"Yes. Peter was with Boss," Friday responds, somehow sounding sad for an AI. 

"At least they didn't die alone," Natasha offers, wishing it was enough to make the situation less hopeless. 

Steve collapses into a chair, lifting his tired, bloodshot eyes to the ceiling. "What do we do? What are we supposed to do? How the hell do we fix this?"

"I don't know... I don't know," Natasha sighs, shoulders falling as she shakes away the tears.

  
*

  
"Dr. Banner?" Friday says, turning everyone's attention back to the ceiling. 

"What?" Bruce snaps. They had been sitting around, bouncing ideas back and forth for hours. Nobody wanted to sleep. Nobody wanted to eat. Nobody wanted to move unless it was with the purpose of reversing everything that had happened. 

"I have found a file from 6 months ago from Peter Parker. It was meant to be delivered to Boss, but I can't seem to get in contact," she explains, oblivious to the situation as ever. 

"What is it?" Natasha asks, suddenly intrigued. She clasps her hands together and leans forward.

"It is titled 'In Case' and is a video to be played if Peter is gone. Missing seems to be counted as gone," Friday explains, a screen popping up before them. 

"He's not missing. He's dead. If he went to Titan, he's dead," Bruce grumbles, but focuses on the screen nonetheless.

A young boy's face appears on the screen looking a little bit confused. It's being filmed on a good quality phone by the looks of it. The background shows a kid's bedroom with a big Iron Man poster on the wall and a bookshelf full of science textbooks and classic novels. There's Lego's strewn across the floor, haphazardly pushed into a corner. 

The boy squints a little before focusing on the camera lens. 

"I found a video like this on Mister Stark's computer. I don't think I was supposed to be looking through it, but anyways... I figured since there's apparently danger or something coming, I figured this was important to make," Peter explains, lips tugging up in a forced half-smile. 

The camera shifts a little as Peter sits down at a desk, sighing and running his free hand through his hair. He suddenly looks years older than before. 

"I don't want to have to think about this, you know? I just... I want to make sure I've said goodbye. Just in case... in case something happens to me at some point." He sighs again, rolling his eyes a little bit. 

"If you're watching this, I'm dead. Or missing. Or severely injured. Or maybe comatose. Who knows? If you're watching this, something bad's happened to me," he says. "I don't even know who will get to watch this. I know I can be annoying and I can be a little bit much sometimes, but I feel like if I did die, I died a good death, you know? Like I did it for a good reason."

He looks away from the camera and when he looks back, his eyes are watery, but he still forces a little smile. "If Mister Stark is the one who sees this, I'm sorry. I don't... I know you don't deserve to lose another person in your life. Pepper says I was really helping you get better, get happy. She says I did good in your life, even though I sort of crash landed into your life and bugged you until you gave in to taking me under your wing. I know I wasn't exactly easy to take care of....

"I know you cared, Mister Stark. And I know you tried your best to save me. Please don't blame yourself. I know you, and I know you would, but it wasn't your fault. Even if you were the one to kill me, I wholeheartedly believe it wasn't you fault. Just... Remember to take care of yourself."

He sighs again, rubbing his eyes with his fists like child would. 

"If it isn't Mister Stark watching this, and for some reason Aunt May can't get to this either... I can't even think about that," he says, shivering and drawing his sweater closer to his small body. "If they can't watch this for whatever reason... Deliver this message to them.

"If you can't deliver this message for whatever reason, just.... Just have someone watch over my city for me, yeah? Make sure Queens is safe without its vigilante. Even as something as small as bike thefts or old people crossing the streets, make sure it's all taken care of, yeah?"

He sniffles a little, blinking away his tears, though his eyes still look glassy. "That's it, I guess. Thanks for everything, world. It was a pretty shitty life, but I think I made the most of it. With great power comes great responsibility. I'm Peter Parker and I guess this is goodbye."

The screen goes black and then disappears. 

The trio of heroes stare at the spot where the teen's face had just been, wondering why they hadn't gotten the chance to get to know him better. Why they hadn't made amends with Tony sooner. Why they hadn't become the family they were meant to be. 

Now it was too late for that.

"He was just a kid..." Steve finally chokes out, eyes welling with tears as he stares at the spot the screen had been. "He was just a kid and now he's gone. And the only time I ever got to see him, I fought with him."

"You're not allowed to do that!" Bruce shouts suddenly, standing from his chair and spinning on Steve, but there's no real anger behind his words. "You're not allowed to feel bad all of a sudden. You should've apologized to him, but you can't anymore."

"I know," Steve says, shaking his head and aggressively pushing away his tears. "I know, and I will. If there's one thing I'll do, it's apologize and get that kid back home."

A newfound hope ignites in the heroes with a purpose. 

Get the kid back to his life. Back to his home. No matter what, get that kid back to Tony. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this is im sorry i thought this was a good idea but the more i wrote the less sure i was of what i was doing whoops
> 
> i wanna write a kidnapped one but those are so long and hard to write depending on what i want to do and ugh idk 
> 
> lyss


	14. 14-Christmas

The holidays were never particularly easy for Peter.

After losing his parents, his uncle, and his aunt, it was hard for him to enjoy the festive occasions like Christmas.

Everyone at school had been ecstatic that Winter Break was starting, and Peter was too, just not excited for Christmas like the rest of them were.

It brought back too many unwanted memories.

He'd been staying at Stark Towers with Tony for the past year. Tony was all he had after May passed away, and Tony was kind and generous, trying to be a good parental figure with Steve, Nat, Pepper and Rhodey's help.

And he was moving on. He was no longer as sad or angry or guilty about May. He was happy again. But Christmas felt hard. Too hard for him to deal with.

He remembers his first Christmas after Ben died. It was hard. Him and May tried really hard to pretend things were normal, but May's paychecks weren't enough to get any gifts for Peter so they made each other shitty homemade cards and pretended it was enough. May tried to cook, almost burned the kitchen down and they ended up eating at a sushi place nearby.

The year after, May was working Christmas Eve and Christmas so Peter spent it by himself for the most part. He cried a lot. He hated being lonely. When May got home, they watched Hallmark movies and ate some store bought sugar cookies all night, and May didn't question the tear tracks and bloodshot eyes.

Last year, May took Christmas off and got Peter a candle. He made her a card, gave her a new pair of shoes thanks to Pepper, and a new bed set thanks to Tony. She felt bad that she couldn't buy him something more, but he assured that she spent so much for his Spider Metabolism and on textbooks for school that the candle was more than enough.

This year, he's got Tony. And he doesn't even want to celebrate Christmas. He just wants to spend the day working on homework and binging tv shows on Netflix by himself. He doesn't even want to have a special dinner. He doesn't mind if the others do, he doesn't mind if they have a huge Christmas party, just as long as he's not involved.

It's Christmas Eve today, somewhere past noon, and Peter hasn't left his room yet, barely left his bed.

It's not easy to keep himself confined to his own bedroom most days he'd be jumping around the tower, talking to everyone he could find, getting to know random strangers on the lower floors of the tower, heading out of patrol randomly throughout the day, working out in the gym with whichever avengers were willing to join him.

But today it was hard to convince himself to leave his bed. The exhaustion went bone deep. He had to convince himself to take each step towards the bathroom whenever it was absolutely dire to go.

He told Friday when he woke up to tell Tony he was working on homework and didn't want to be bothered. He knew Tony probably had guessed what was going on, but hadn't questioned him yet, so he's counting it as a win.

He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep while binging Brooklyn nine-nine over again, waking up a good half season later.

Tony's knocking on his door loudly.

"Kiddo, you know I can just tell Friday to override your lock. Open up," he's saying, pretending to be annoyed, but there's an obvious gentleness to his tone.

Peter drags his leaden legs out of bed, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and fumbling for the door, not caring that this'll blow his cover of doing homework.

He opens up the door, not even bothering to school his expression into anything besides tired annoyance.

"Were you sleeping?" Tony asks, looking over the kid's zombie-like appearance blocking the doorway.

"Yeah," Peter shrugs, staring at Tony expectantly.

"Bucky and Steve made cookies if you wanna leave your cave," Tony says, peeking around Peter's slumped shoulders into the messy room. "Didn't I tell you to clean up yesterday?"

"I know," Peter sighs. There's notes and papers from his binder strewn over the floor and his desk, stacks of textbooks on the corner of his desk. There's dirty clothes pushed into a corner by the end of the bed, a sweater hanging off the back of his chair. There's extra blankets on his floor, bedsheets rumbled in disarray over his bed. There's empty and half empty glasses of water on almost every surface and there's a few more on the floor by his bed. There's empty granola bar and cereal boxes under his desk, an overflowing bin of tissues and wrappers at the head of his bed. Not to mention the random things webbed to his walls and ceiling like his school binder, random pens and pencils, even books. It's a mess, but so is Peter so he'd say it's okay.

"Make sure you clean it up sometime soon or I'll revoke Patrol privileges," Tony says, but there's no bite to his voice, no promise to his threat.

Peter doesn't answer, lifting his eyes in question.

"Come on. There's cookies in the kitchen and Nat wanted to watch a movie," Tony says, gesturing towards the way he'd come.

His bed is unbelievably tempting, but Peter knows he doesn't actually have a choice in this one. Tony would drag him to the kitchen if he had to. So he pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulder, feet dragging as he follows Tony towards the main part of the penthouse.

"Hey, Peter," Bucky says, offering a kind smile when the teenager walks into the room. "We made cookies."

Peter walks closer and his heart shatters even more when he sees them. Sugar cookies. Like he and May used to have.

Bucky offers the tray to Peter, half-heartedly warning about it being hot, but the younger can barely move.

Finally, he gets his mouth to start working, choking out a quiet excuse of not being hungry.

He can feel the eyes on him as he takes a small step backwards, pushing the thoughts away, locking them up. He's not going to ruin Christmas for everyone else just because he's having a hard time.

"I'm, uh, I'm actually really tired still, so I, um, I'm going to go take a nap if that's cool," he mumbles, looking over to Tony.

His mentor's eyes are sad, watching him with sympathy. "Peter, I know this isn't easy. I know it's hard after everything, but-"

"You have no idea what this is like," Peter mumbles, ducking his head so his glassy eyes aren't visible.

"I lost my parents too, kid. I know I don't talk about it a lot, but I lost my parents when I was younger. Right near Christmas time. I spent Christmas Eve getting wasted and then Christmas morning puking my guts up and crying over the toilet. And then I got drunk again that night. I think I got high too, but I can't remember much of what happened. I don't want you to deal with everything how I did. I want you to know that you've still got people in your corner, you know?" Tony says, looking uncertain as he holds out one arm as an invitation.

Peter hesitates for a moment uncertainly, before tucking himself against Tony's side.

"I miss them all. My mom and my dad and uncle Ben and Aunt May. I miss them all so much," he whispers, pushing his face into the crook of Tony's neck.

"I know you do, kiddo, but you don't need to torture yourself by locking yourself in your room and refusing to have any fun because of it. You're allowed to have fun even though they're not here to have fun with you," Tony says, leading the two of them to the hallway so their conversation can be at least a little more private.

"I just don't want them to think I don't miss them. I don't want them to think I've forgotten about them," Peter murmurs, blinking up at the billionaire innocently.

Tony offers a small smile in response. "I visit my parents graves about a week before Christmas. Wish them a happy holidays wherever they are. Talk to them. I light a candle for them too. We can find something that'll make you feel better too, Okay?"

"I, um, i kinda like yours. If you don't want me to use it then that's okay, but, uh, Aunt May used to always light candles around the house. She said it was to ward off any bad spirits, says she got it from my mom. Uncle Ben always tried to tell them it was stupid, just like dad, but they always bought them new candles of different scents anyways. It was nice," Peter rambles, a soft smile touching his lips. 

"It's perfect, kiddo. Whatever it takes to make you happy," Tony says, pulling the kid into a tight hug.

"Nothing big though," Peter says. "No big holiday party or anything. I just want to watch stupidly sad Hallmark movies with you guys and eat the sugar cookies. Nothing big please."

"Your wish is my command, underoos. Go take a shower, clean up your room, and then we'll have a nice lowkey festive night, okay? Sounds good?"

Peter smiles brighter this time, racing off to his bedroom.

"I'm really sorry, Tony," Bucky murmurs once the billionaire walks back into the kitchen.

"About what? The sugar cookie thing? It's all fine now," Tony says.

"No, about your parents. I had no idea... I hadn't even realized how hard holidays must be. I just... I'm sorry," Bucky says, frowning deeply.

"It's cool, man. You've apologized hundreds of times already. You were brainwashed. You had no idea what you were doing. I blame Hydra, not you. And holidays aren't hard anymore. I've moved on," Tony replies, ever the mature adult. He proceeds to throw a sugar cookie at Bucky's face who barely dodges in time. "Now bake up. Peter's going to be out in an hour and I promised lots of sugar cookies and shitty hallmark movies tonight!"

*

Peter curls up tightly against his father figure, the movie playing softly in the background, tummy full of sugar cookies and hot chocolate.

"Thanks for this," he murmurs, swooning into the touch against his hair.

"I just want you to be happy, kid," Tony replies, leaving a soft kiss to his child's forehead.

____

Oof fuck sorry this sucks lmao the next one’s gonna be better whoopsies I was gonna write like a chirstmas morning scene but like motivation?? Who’s she?? I don’t know her

Happy holidays friends :))

Lyss


	15. 15-Manhandling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda shorter than normal sorry but hopefully yall enjoy nonetheless

Tony smiles down at his 6 year old son who's working on his grade one math homework on the floor of the lab. There's soft classic rock playing in the background as Tony tinkers and keeps an eye on his kid. 

Peter's curls bounce around his chubby cheeks as he hops up from his seat, paper and pencil in hand as he hurries over to Tony. 

"Daddy," Peter whines, tugging on his dad's shirt. "I don't understand."

Tony laughs quietly at just how cute his son is, pouting and annoyed by the math problem. The hero lifts his kid into a chair and lays the paper flat on the surface.

"You know how to do this, Pete. Jane has 6 bouncy balls and has to share them with her 2 sisters. How many does each sister get?" Tony reads from the page. 

"It doesn't say she has to share evenly," Peter says, rolling his big eyes. "She could give 1 to each sister, 2 to each sister or 3 to each sister. Or 1 to one sister and 2 to the other. There's so many possibilities." 

Tony smiles. He probably shouldn't have started teaching his kid math and science at such an early age, but Peter always insisted. Even when he was really little, he only wanted to watch the nature documentaries and wanted to read from a kid's science textbook and always wanted to help Tony in the lab if he could. Of course Tony gave the child easy things to do like hold onto things and ask him easy addition problems, but Peter always felt like he was helping anyways. And Tony enjoyed the company.

"Skip this one and talk to your teacher on Monday, squirt. See what she says. It's not a very smart question," Tony says.

Peter leans in like he's about to tell the world's biggest secret and doesn't want Dum-E to hear, and whispers, "I don't think my teacher's very smart."

Tony laughs again. "That's not very nice, but you're probably right. How about you go upstairs and see if Momma's home. And get yourself a snack. I'll be up in a minute, okay?"

Peter hops down from his chair, almost stumbling when his short legs don't hit the ground soon enough, but Tony catches his elbows and straightens him out.

"Cheerios?" Peter asks, tipping his head to the side.

"Sure. Go get some cheerios. I'll be up in just a second, Bambi."

"Okay, Daddy!" 

  
*

  
When Tony finally walks up the stairs to see if Peter was able to reach the Cheerios alright, he almost has a heart attack.

Men, about 6 or 7 of them are in the kitchen. All wearing black. Hydra insignia's on their jackets.

And Tony's son, his little child, his Bambi, his Peter Pan, his baby, is being held in the center.

"Daddy," the little boy cries, straining against the hands.

His chubby cheeks are bright red, tears streaming down from his big, scared eyes. His curls are being held by one of the men, more hands on his arms and little shoulders. His mouth is dropped open in a cry as he reaches out for his dad. 

"Get your fucking hands off him," Tony growls, prying his eyes away from his child to glare at the men. 

"Not even gonna bargain, Stark?" A man says, drawing a gun from the waistband of his pants, a lazy smile on his face. He's the least armored, pulling off his mask to show sparkling blue eyes and fluffy blond hair. "I would've expected more pleading for your son's life."

Peter whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut when the barrel of the gun is pressed against his temple.

Tony wants nothing more than to comfort him, but he can't do that unless he gets him away from the men first.

"What do you want?" Tony demands, keeping a careful eye on the man's finger on the trigger. The safety's still on so Tony counts that as a very small win.

"I want money. I want blueprints. I want suits. I want plans. But most of all," the man drawls, "I want to see the great Tony Stark, Iron Man, the hero everyone looks up to, grovelling on his knees. I want to see you get down and beg for your child's life."

It's the worst noise he's ever heard, Tony's decided. Listening to the safety being clicked off the gun. The gun pressed to his kid's head. 

A sob escapes Peter's throat and his big eyes snap open, meeting Tony's easily.

"You're going to be okay, baby. You hear me? It's okay. Keep your eyes closed, okay? Pretend it's all just a bad dream, Bambi," Tony reassures, heart thumping against his chest.

Peter nods quickly, squeezing his eyes shut again, soft whines leaving his lips every now and again as he tries to keep himself quiet and still.

Tony lifts his eyes back to the man who's glaring at him, finger hovering over the trigger.

"On your knees," the man commands, almost nonchalantly gesturing to the floor.

And Tony doesn't hesitate, dropping to the floor and staring up at the man, almost like challenging. 

"Let the kid go," Tony snarls. "He's six. He's a kid. Leave him out of this. Please. Just let him go."

"You sound too angry to be begging. Do we need to try a little harder?" the man says as though he's talking to a toddler about toys. "Jared, give the kid a good hit."

"Don't fucking touch him!" Tony roars, but he's not going to put his kid in any more danger. If he moves, the man might shoot, and Tony can't risk that, even when a bigger man steps up to the task.

The punch lands on Peter's tummy and Peter immediately tries to hunch over, but the arms don't allow him to. His little body falls limp, eyes opening again and meeting Tony's.

"Daddy," Peter wails, a waterfall of tears now flooding down his rosy cheeks. "Daddy, I'm scared. Please."

"I know you are, sweetheart. I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Everything's going to be okay, I promise. I'm so sorry, baby."

The elevators ding as they open, revealing Steve Rogers. He's in uniform, shield strapped to his back, hands up in surrender. 

"Steve," Tony practically sobs, knowing if anyone can help his child, it's Steve.

Steve spares a glance to Tony, a reassuring look in his eyes, before focusing his full attention to the Hydra men.

"Taking a 6 year old hostage? Really? That's low, even for you," Steve quips, trying to buy time to figure out the safest route. 

"I thought you said he wasn't going to be here," one of the men hisses to the first guy. 

The blond doesn't even time to answer before Captain America's shield is hitting him right in the face.

The gun goes off, but pointed towards the ceiling.

Peter collapses to the floor, arms curling around his stomach where he had gotten hit. 

Tony's immediately stumbling forwards, catching his kid and drawing him close to his chest.

The child sobs and wraps his arms around his dad's neck, holding on tight. His whole body is trembling agonizingly. 

Tony's arms wrap tightly around the kid, one around his back, the other cupping the back of his neck. 

"I've got you. I'm so sorry. You're okay. I've got you. I've got you, baby. I've got you. You're okay. You're safe now. I'm sorry," Tony murmurs, tears beginning to slip down his face, no need to keep up the charade of impassiveness for the hydra men. 

"Daddy," Peter whines again, hiding his face in the crook of Tony's neck.

Peter's tears stain Tony's shirt and Tony's tears catch in Peter's curls, but neither seem to care, keeping a tight hold on the other. 

"I've got you, bambi. I've got you," Tony whispers, running his fingers through Peter's curls, untangling the knots left behind from the man. Hoping his soft touch makes Peter forget about the aggressive one from just minutes before. 

Peter chokes out another sob, small body trembling and curling tighter into Tony, desperately seeking the comfort he needs. 

"I've got you, Peter Pan. You're safe. I'm so proud of you. You're okay. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I promise. I'm so sorry," Tony says, voice hitching and making the tears fall faster down his face. He squeezes his child tighter against his chest, pressing kisses to Peter's curls and to his forehead, reassuring himself that Peter's still alive, still breathing. 

"I love you, Daddy. I love you. Thank you," Peter says, tears slowing as the exhaustion hits him full force.

"I love you too, baby. I've got you. Go to sleep. Remember, it was all a bad dream. I'm so so proud of you, Bambi. Go to sleep," Tony whispers, pressing another chaste kiss to Peter's forehead as his eyes close. 

Tony finally looks up, meeting Steve's eyes. 

"Go to bed, Tony. I'll deal with them, get them to Nat. I'll figure out what happened with security too. Go get some rest, make sure Peter sleeps. I'll figure this out," Steve says, offering a gentle smile to the exhausted man, holding his sleeping child to his chest.

"Thank you," Tony whispers, voice shaking and a little too high, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

"It's no problem, Tony. This will never happen again, okay? I'll make sure Hydra's taken down entirely if it's the last thing I do," Steve says, eyes holding an angry fire. He looks down to Peter's body, relaxed in his sleep, and the fire soothes. "He'll be okay, Tony. This wasn't your fault."

Tony nods once, trying to convey his feelings in his eyes before letting his gaze drop back to his child. 

The hero carries his child to his bedroom, tucking Peter in carefully before slipping under the covers beside his son. He wouldn't be able to sleep without being able to hear Peter's soft, even breaths, checking over and over again to make sure the breaths come every time.

"Go to s'eep, Daddy," Peter yawns, tucking his small body against Tony's chest.

"I am. Goodnight, Bambi," Tony murmurs, pressing a final, loving kiss to his child's forehead. Making silent promises that he'll keep him safe no matter what. 


	16. 16-Aftermath

Peter knew it was stupid. 

He knew he was being stupid.

But he couldn't let it go.

He couldn't let The Vulture win.

But now, stumbling out of the fire, he's not so sure it was worth it.

His head is pounding, world spinning around him as he tries to escape the smoke burning his lungs. It's hot. Too hot. And he can barely think straight.

There's an aching pain in his back and his head and his chest, but he can't think about it now. He has to make it out of the fire. Without his mask, he can't be seen by anyone or else his cover will be blown.

He absentmindedly pats some flame out from his sleeve, wincing at the burns on his hands from touching the metal wingsuit after it had exploded.

He stumbles, knees trying to give out from under him.

One foot after the next, he reminds himself. Every step is hell, sends shooting pain through his whole body.

There's a high pitched ringing filling his ears, and it takes him a moment to realize he can't actually hear anything besides the ringing.

He briefly wonders how pissed Aunt May will be when she finds out. If he even makes it home tonight.

He stumbles again. A wet, rattling cough pushing it's way out of his aching throat.

His feet don't seem to want to continue walking, dragging with every step. His homemade suit is in tatters, barely kept together with burns, cuts and holes throughout the clothing.

The smoke is finally clearing as he continues to stumble away from the wreckage, cold sweat clinging to every piece of his body, stinging on the deeper cuts. 

He needs help, he realizes, barely able to hold onto the single thought. Every attempt at brain power seems useless, every thought slipping through his fingers. He can barely remember the events of the evening.

All he can remember is a crushing weight. And the panic. The panic is seared into his memory. 

He wishes he had Karen. Wishes he had the soothing voice of the AI speaking to him and offering to call Tony for him.

"Tony!" he gasps at the sudden realization, grasping at the ideas as tight as he can. "Gotta call Mister Stark. Let him know his plane's okay."

He remembers going to Coney Island when he was little with Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He remembers seeing a phone booth by the Ferris wheel. He just somehow has to convince his feet to continue walking to get to the Ferris Wheel first.

He takes a break by the entrance, letting his knees give out and curling up in a fetal position on the ground despite the pain it sends through his chest.

He's gasping for breath now, unable to think coherently at all. 

His body trembles as he coughs again, black dots spotting across his vision. He wants nothing more than to let them take him, to pass out in the sand at the entrance to the fair. 

But he has to tell Mister Stark what happened. He needs Mister Stark to know that all his stuff is on the beach. He can't have Mister Stark worried. Absolutely not. 

  
He's practically crawling, barely able to keep himself conscious, by the time he makes it to the phone booth. It calls for a dollar, but luck seemed to be on his side when he finds a dollar on the ground by the phone booth.

He dials the number he'd memorized by then and somehow, by some luck, Mister Stark picks up the phone. 

Peter collapses to the floor, the phone cord barely reaching his ear in that position, entire body throbbing in pain as he almost sobs in relief. 

"Mister Stark! Mister Stark!" He exclaims, body heaving with the effort of forcing his voice to work. He can barely remember why he was calling. "Fire... Plane! Your plane. At the Ferris Wheel. A bird? A bird was there... Hurt my fingers... I, uh, I'm- I'm- Why am I so tired? Wanna go home."

"Peter? I swear to fucking god, kid," Tony exclaims, sounding out of breath.

"Mis'er Stark? Why are you calling me? Am I in trouble?" Peter asks, vision blurring.

"Kid, I need you to focus for just a minute. Can you do that?" Tony doesn't wait for a response before plowing forward with questions. "Where are you? Are you hurt?"

"At the Ferris Wheel. I told you," Peter says, sounding smaller than ever, like a child that slipped and scraped his knee. 

"Are you hurt? Cho needs me to be very specific to see just how much medical attention you need. You need to focus and tell me what hurts," the billionaire says.

Peter already forgets what the man had asked, phone slipping in his grip as he coughs again. His stomach is churning and all he can taste is blood. 

"Peter!" Tony demands, sounding on the brink of panic. 

This makes Peter try to focus as much as he can. 

"Everything," he cries. "Everything hurts, Mister Stark."

"I'm coming for you right now, okay? I'm on my way, kid. I'm going to be there in just a minute."

This puts Peter's mind at ease. Mister Stark's coming, therefor he'll be just fine, right?

  
*

  
Tony speeds the suit up as much as he physically can, racing for the kid. He can already see the small figure curled up beside an open phone booth. 

He finally lands, ejecting himself from the suit as soon as his feet hit the concrete.

Peter's eyes lazily tip up to meet Tony's, soft eyes full of tears.

"Hurts," the child whines, lifting his arms just a little bit.

He's definitely worse for wear, but Tony needs to stay focused on keeping the kid calm and awake until the ambulance arrives. 

"You did so well, kiddo. I'm so proud of you," Tony murmurs, sitting right next to the kid.

"Really?" Peter asks, coughing violently. Blood drips from the corner of his lips when he looks back up at the older. 

"Yeah, kiddie," Tony forces out, trying to sound calmer than he is. His heart is beating much too fast as he keeps his eyes focused on the kid's eyes. "Yeah, you did so good. You're a hero, you know that. You're so so kind and smart, and I'm so proud of you."

Peter hums in response, curling his body towards Tony's. The billionaire reacts quickly, wrapping his arms gently around the smaller boy who struggles to keep his glazed eyes focused on what's happening.

"How was homecoming?" Tony asks, trying to keep Peter's mind off his wounds.

Peter chokes out a pathetic laugh, breaths coming in uneven wheezes. "Didn't even getta dance."

"Prom isn't too far away, you didn't miss much," Tony says, offering Peter a reassuring smile and carding his fingers through the kid's curls.

"'M tired," Peter whines, swooning into the calming touch, eyes slipping farther shut.

"Hey, hey, hey, no. You've gotta keep those eyes open, okay? Stay awake. The ambulance is almost here."

It's true, he can hear the sirens getting closer and closer to them. Tony feels undeniable guilt welling up inside his chest, weighing him down as he listens halfheartedly to the kid struggle to talk about something that had happened at school recently.

Tony starts making a mental list of all the things he'll be sure to do once Peter is okay. 

_-Touch Peter's hair more (he seems to really enjoy it)_

_-Get in touch with Harley Keener again and see how he's doing_

_-Set up some nights so he can train and get to know the kid_

_-Watch more movies so he can understand more of Peter's references_

_-Make sure Peter's suit gets more upgrades than ever_

_-Go to one of Peter's academic decathlon tournaments_

_-Make sure May has the money to take care of their Spiderbaby_

_-Make sure Peter knows he's cared for_

  
*

  
The ambulance arrived only minutes later and Peter was pulled away from him, leaving him by himself in the sand beside the telephone booth.

Friday closed the suit around him and rattled off the list of things Happy had sent him about to make sure everything was taken care of. He told Friday to tell Happy that right now the kid was more important than a whole bunch of junk.

Friday set the coordinates and he was back at the compound just minutes later where the kid was just arriving, being taken down to the medwing.

Tony decides calling May is the best route of action.

"Where's my kid?" May demands before even bothering to check who was calling.

"He's with me. Something happened. I'll send a car," Tony says, sounding monotone, impassive.

May, for once, doesn't argue. "Make sure he's okay. Please. I can't lose him too."

"I've got the best doctors in the world here. He'll be just fine. I swear."

  
*

  
Tony doesn't realize what's happening until it's too late. And he wakes up in a hospital room. 

He guesses he panicked and passed out. But he doesn't care about that right now. What he cares about is making sure Peter's okay.

Just as he starts moving to get up, the door opens.

Pepper and May walk in, both looking a little too tired. Too worried.

"Don't move," Pepper says, words demanding but tone gentle. "Peter's still not allowed visitors."

"Is he okay?" I ask, looking between the two.

"Yeah. I've been getting hourly updates from Friday, and Peter's okay. Still in surgery from the last update, but doing okay," May explains, sinking into the chair beside Tony's bed.

"Hourly? How long have I been-"

"About 3," Pepper responds. "I'm just glad your heart didn't give out or something. We can't deal with anymore today."

Tony sighs, dropping his head into his hands. "I should've been more careful. I shouldn't have taken the suit. I shouldn't have gotten so mad at him-"

"Suit? What suit?" May asks, lifting her head to Tony. 

"Shit. You don't even- Peter's going to kill me for telling you..."

And Tony launches into the story of Spider-Man and Germany and now The Vulture, though even he doesn't know what happened this evening. All he knows is exactly what the public knows. Nowhere near enough. 

And lets just say, May's not very happy, but she's not in the least surprised. 

  
*

Peter fades in and out of consciousness for what feels like years. Always trying to grasp for the night that appears behind his closed eyelids, trying with all his strength to hang onto awareness, but the darkness always manages to pull him back in.

In the little moments where he's aware of the world around him, he can only lock onto specific things. He can feel the warm hands. On his arms, in his hair, tucked into his hands. And the steady beating of the heart monitor somewhere at the head of his hospital bed. The only reason he's sure he's in a hospital of sorts is the strong chemicals in the air you can only smell in hospitals. 

But he can't seem to hang onto any of it, always slipping back into a dreamless state of darkness before he can even open his eyes.

This time, though, he tries for something smaller. Just to try and twitch his fingers. Just a little bit. And, lucky for him, there's a warm, calloused hand, tucked in his. Someone to encourage him to be awake. 

It takes about every ounce of strength he can muster, but he gets his fingers to twitch.

He's cold, he realizes when the hand in his squeezes tighter. His body involuntarily shivers as the warmth floods through his arms. 

He tries harder, squeezing his hand. He can't seem to grasp at any of his normally above average strength, but he gets a little bit to work, and he squeezes the hand in his. He holds onto the hand like a lifeline, desperately trying to hang onto consciousness.

"You wanna open your eyes for me, Pete? Needa know if you're okay in there. I don't want to have to keep dealing with your scary aunt alone," the voice says and somewhere in the back of his mind he substitutes _dad_. 

Peter pushes his eyes to open, finding it easier now that he's managed to hang onto awareness for more than just a few seconds. 

The light is bright and scares him into squeezing his eyes shut again. It takes him a moment to regain his strength, but when he opens them, the light is less affronting.

His head lolls to the side, trying to find the source of the warmth still flooding through his arm from the hand. 

When he finally catches the soft brown eyes of the man, it's hard not to think _Dad_ again. His cheeks flush when he finally realizes it's Mister Stark. Not his dad. 

Peter's tongue feels like lead, head feels like cotton, but he's gotta say something.

"Mis-Mis'er S'ar'?" he slurs, barely keeping hold of consciousness. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm right here, kiddo. I've got you. You're okay. Your aunt's taking a nap right now. Do you want me to go get her?" Tony says, face holding more worry than previously thought possible.

Peter tries to shake his head, struggling to get his body to cooperate with him. 

"Stay." His voice comes out a quiet whine, leaning forward. 

Tony just barely manages to catch the kid properly, pushing him back towards the bed, but another whine leaves his throat before he can stop it.

"Please," he whimpers, squeezing the hand in his tighter. 

"What do you want, Pete? Are you in pain?"

Peter shakes his head, eyes glazing over as his mind tries to pull him back into the darkness. He uses the last of his dwindling strength to tug Tony's hand again, whining at the back of his throat.

"You want to cuddle?" Tony finally guesses, relief flooding his face when Peter nods lazily. 

Tony crawls into the small hospital bed beside the kid, very careful of not hurting his ribs more. When Tony relaxes against the pillows, Peter curls up against his chest, slackening as soon as he gets what he wanted.

Tony presses a chaste kiss to the top of the kid's head, before beginning the soothing motion of running his fingers through his kid's hair. 

"Thank god you're okay," Tony murmurs, knowing he's already far too deep in caring for this selfless teenager. "May's going to kill both of us when you're feeling better."

"G'dnigh' dad," Peter slurs in response, passing out again. 

Tony knows in that moment that if he's going to do anything with the rest of his life is make sure the last thing on his list is completed over and over and over again.

_-Make sure Peter knows he's cared for_

And he doesn't think it'll be hard, all things considered. 


	17. 17-Breakups

{A one shot for my fav Ace!Peter}

Tony was in the middle of working on an update for his Iron Man suit when his kid stumbled into the lab.

"Pete?" Tony says, turning to the doorway. 

Peter is standing right at the entrance, confusion painted across his features. There are tears forming in his big brown eyes and his hands are shaking at his sides.

"That bad, huh?" Tony murmurs, standing and crossing the room towards his kid. "What happened?"

"He was 2 hours late," Peter cries, an anger sparking in his eyes. Tony knows he's going to have to let Peter vent through everything before trying to comfort him. "I waited _2 hours_ for him to show up... And when he did, he asked to just skip the pizza and go straight back to his house.

"I'm so fucking stupid. I should've realized what he meant, but I was hoping and hoping and hoping that he'd be a good person. I just sorta figured we'd just hang out and watch movies and eat snacks or something, you know? But that's not what he wanted to do."

Peter sniffles, rolling his eyes and aggressively pushing away the tears. "We got back to his place and he kept saying these things, and I kept telling him he was making me uncomfortable and I kept asking him to stop, but he wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't _listen_. He started kissing me and I tried not to think about it, hoping that he wouldn't try to go farther, you know? Hoping I wouldn't have to explain it because we hadn't even been on a date yet.

"He started touching me and I was starting to get scared. I told him to stop. I told him I didn't want to. But he just kept trying. I finally pushed him off me and I started to leave, but he grabbed my arm, and he said all these mean things to me. He called me a tease and said that it was a bet throughout most of the school to see who could get in my pants first. They were up to $200 to go to whoever won," Peter explains, tears falling faster as a gut-wrenching sob escapes his throat.

"I tried to tell him it wasn't going to happen. I told him I was ace. I told him I wasn't going to do it with anyone. He got pissed and asked if that was some disease that virgins got. I tried to tell him, but he kept telling me that I was just a tease. That I was probably just scared. He told me he'd go gentle... I left. Everyone's going to know now. Everyone's going to know," Peter cries, finally looking up at Tony.

He looks absolutely heartbroken. Hopeless. Angry. 

"I'm so sorry, Pete," Tony says, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but Peter jerks away from Tony. 

"No!" he whines, pushing his small fists against his eyes. "No, I don't need the spiel. Trust me, I've heard it a thousand times. I don't want to hear 'you'll find the right person one day' again. Just... don't."

"Do you want to watch a movie or something? Take your mind off it?" Tony offers instead, knowing Peter needs time to cool off before accepting the comfort.

"I'm just... I'm going to head to bed," Peter mumbles, bottom lip quivering with his attempts to reel in his emotions.

"Okay, kid. You know where to find me if you need anything. And even if you don't want to hear the spiel, it's still true," Tony says, offering a small smile. 

Peter doesn't return it, staring at Tony for a few more moments as though contemplating something. 

He suddenly races the few needed feet to hug his dad tightly. "Thank you."

Tony smiles gently, kissing Peter's curls a few times and hugging him protectively. "It's my pleasure, kiddie."

Peter pulls away after another second and ducks off to his bedroom.

  
*

  
When morning comes, Tony stumbles into the kitchen to get himself some coffee. He doesn't see the kid around, which seems weird at first before he remembers the night before. It hadn't been easy. He had heard the kid pacing for hours into the night.

"Fri, tell Pete to come out for breakfast if he's awake," Tony says, sipping at his coffee.

"Peter is not in the building, boss," Friday informs. 

"What? What do you mean? Where is he?" Tony demands, jolting awake suddenly. Panic courses through his system almost immediately.

"Peter left at 3:74am this morning. Hasn't returned, did not say where he was going, sir."

Just as Tony gets ready to track Peter's cellphone, the elevator doors ding open. 

Peter shuffles out, looking more wrecked than he did the night before. His hair is ruffled and messy, clothes wrinkled and in disarray. His eyes are crying, no longer holding the anger from the night before. 

He breaks when he sees Tony, standing in the kitchen, and he races for his dad.

He catapults into his dad's awaiting arms and a sob breaks through his voice, his whole body trembling in Tony's tight hold.

"People are so _mean_ ," Peter cries, hiding his face in the crook of the billionaire's shoulder. "Why are people so mean?" 

"I know, kiddo, I know. What happened?"

"People kept texting me all night because the word got out that I was a virgin and I refused to have sex last night. People kept texting me and DMing me, and they were all so mean. Saying that I was a tease and I was going to die alone and that nobody was ever going to like me if I wouldn't even have sex with them. Even Harry was angry. He's been bitching about me for weeks. He says it's not fair that his best friend doesn't have sex so he doesn't have anyone to talk about it with. I kept trying to tell him that he could still talk about it even though I don't actually do it. But he kept saying it was too weird. I just wanted it to be over. I wanted it all to be over," Peter cries, struggling for proper air.

"What did you do?" Tony asks, running his fingers through his kid's hair gently to get him to calm down and breathe. 

"I went back to his house. I went back and figured if I just got it over with, maybe people wouldn't be so mean. If I got it over with, I wouldn't be the sex-repulsed virgin kid for the rest of my life. I went back. I told him I'd do it. I told him I wanted to get it over with. I just wanted to get it all over with. He took me back to his room and he started kissing me and touching me and I couldn't breathe and I started crying. He started laughing at me. Said he knew I'd freak out again. Said he saw it coming. He kept going anyways. He kept going and I kept freaking out. I didn't want it anymore. I didn't know what I wanted," Peter explains quickly through his panicked tears.

"What happened, kiddie?" Tony asks, knowing he's gotta know if it actually happened or not.

"His sister came home. She saw what was going on. She got angry. Started yelling. Told him this was his last strike. She kept screaming about how he has to stop taking advantage of younger kids like it's a game. Said she's telling their parents. He left. She called me an uber and said she was sorry. I told her I was sorry. I shouldn't have come back. She said it happened more often than she'd like to admit. Said it wasn't my fault."

"Thank god," Tony breathes, hugging his kid closer. That makes the situation just a little bit easier to deal with. "Thank god. You're okay, kiddo. I've got you."

"Why does everyone hate me? Why did I have to be the broken kid? Why did I have to be this way?" Peter cries, clinging onto Tony's t-shirt.

"You're not broken, kiddie. You're not. You're just you. There's nothing wrong with you. You don't need to have sex to be normal," Tony reassures, rubbing the kid's back and leaving kisses on his temple and hair.

Peter pulls away a little bit, big eyes more hopeless than ever. "I'm going to die alone. Nobody's ever going to love me if I can't even have sex."

Tony smiles a little bit, leading the kid over to the couch where Peter curls up against Tony.

"You give the best cuddles in the world, kiddo. Do you want to hear the spiel now?" Tony offers with a knowing smile.

Peter nods, hiding his face back into Tony's shirt. "I think I need to hear it."

"Well you're an amazing person, kiddo. You're so kind and smart and funny and happy. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Everyone is stupid for thinking you need to have sex to be happy or to have a healthy relationship. They're all dicks. You don't deserve that. Never ever think you have to change yourself for others. Never ever try to be someone you're not to make others happier, okay? You're an amazing kid, Pete. You're not going to die alone, you've got me, remember? I'm never going to die. Nope. Plus, you love dogs and cats. I'm sure you'll have plenty of those to keep you company if you somehow don't end up finding a partner. You don't _need_ a relationship to be happy," Tony says. 

"You're sure?" Peter says, and the lack of confidence in his tone makes Tony start talking again.

"Have I ever told you about the first few weeks of you being in my life?" Peter shakes his head so Tony continues. "You were the smallest little thing with the biggest eyes in the world. I was so scared of hurting you because of how tiny you were. You were so so small. And you never ever cried. You were so happy even at only a few months old. You would giggle all the time and you loved cuddles and you never whined about anything. You were so small and I fell in love with you so fast. It took a long time for me to understand that you were really mine. My child. My small little tiny child. 

"You loved cheerios more than imaginable. You only ever cried if you didn't get your Cheerios. When you were first handed over to me, being told that you were mine, I thought it was impossible. I thought all I could do was destroy, not create. But there you were, the cutest little thing on the planet and you held on tight to my hand and you smiled up at me and started to cry. Not loud, just a few little tears down your chubby face and I held you tight until you stopped crying, and I was so filled with this desire to protect you. I would do anything to keep you happy. 

"Someday, you're going to find someone who's going to think the same about you. Someone who cares about you like you're the only important thing on the planet. Someone who would do anything to see you happy. There's going to be more heartbreak throughout your life, but you're young. You'll find someone who loves you, Pete. I swear."

"Thank you, Dad. I love you," Peter murmurs, wiping the rest of his tears away as he looks up at Tony.

"Love you too, kiddo."


	18. 18-Asthma

{I'm a sucker for asthma fics damn especially the ones with Bucky lmao I've read like all the ones I could find}

The beep test. {Or the Pacer Test}

Peter's worst nightmare.

Throughout middle school, he was always allowed to sit out as long as he did crunches or some other form of exercise on the sidelines because running was a huge trigger for his asthma.

Unfortunately, he's now a 9th grader. Therefore, the gym teacher was having none of it.

"It's not asthma, kid, you're just out of shape," he said, laughing at the small teenager.

"I've got a prescription and everything," Peter argues, gesturing towards the locker rooms where his inhaler was tucked into the front pocket.

"Sure you do, kid. You're just pampered and spoiled because your daddy is Tony Stark," he jeers, laughing again. His mouth is too big and it intimidates the 14 year old. He's reminded of when he was really little and used to have nightmares about people eating him. His dad thought it was really weird, but would help him through it nonetheless.

"Mr. Robertson, it's true. Peter has really bad asthma. He threw up and passed out when he tried out for the basketball team a few years ago," Ned says, quickly standing up for his best friend.

Peter nods despite his cheeks flushing darkly. That had not been a fun experience.

He hadn't had an asthma attack in a really long time. He had been really careful throughout middle school, making sure not to push his limits and stopping whenever it started getting too hard to breathe. He'd sit on the sidelines and take a few puffs from his inhaler and once he was feeling better, get back out and play with the others.

But he never tried to do anything that was too hard for him to do. Like The Beep Test.

"You too pussy to do it, Penis?" Flash shouts from the starting line.

"Just drop out after a few laps and call it a day. Just pretend," Ned suggests when the teacher sends them another glare.

"Please. The last couple years I was told I didn't have to because of my asthma," Peter whines, hating how childish he sounds, but he knows his dad will be angry if he finds out Peter had an asthma attack in school because he didn't tell the teacher he couldn't.

"You're just a little weakling like your father, huh? Pathetic," the man scoffs, looking over Peter's scrawny form.

Peter frowns at that. "My dad's not weak. He's a hero."

"Sure he is, kid," Mr. Robertson laughs sarcastically. "How about you prove it?"

"What?" Peter's worried now and a little bit angry. How dare this man make fun of Iron Man?

"Prove it. How strong is your daddy? How well did your daddy teach his little hero in training?" The man taunts, laughing again. "To the starting line!"

Peter walks all the way to the other end of the gym, anxiety already making his lungs feel a little tighter than usual. He stands beside Ned, wringing his hands in his shirt.

"You're not serious, right? You can't do this, Peter," Ned says, elbowing Peter in the arm.

"Just... If you're out before me, could you get me my inhaler? It's in my gym bag," Peter requests.

"Your dad's going to kill me," Ned whines. "You don't have anything to prove, Peter."

"Yes, I do. I'm not the stupid, weak kid who gets everything handed to them because I've got Tony as a dad. That's not me," Peter says stubbornly, stretching his limbs as much as he can.

"You've got asthma, Peter. That's not weak, that's a medical condition. You're going to kill yourself," Ned mutters in annoyance. He's not surprised in the least. This is exactly the type of thing Peter would do.

**_"The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues..."_** the monotone voice begins the spiel of how the test goes.

"Don't breathe a word of this to my dad, okay? He already thinks I'm irresponsible," Peter says, getting into the starting position. His heart is already racing. He's so terrified of having an asthma attack in front of everyone. Tony won't be worried that his heart rate is so high yet, he knows Peter's schedule.

"The only way I'll tell him is if you actually panic, okay?"

"Fine."

**_"The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start."_ **

Everyone begins to run to the opposite end of the gym, and so far so good for Peter.

His heart rate is still a little bit too high, but his breathing is doing fine.

Two. Beep.

Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot.

Peter figures if he just doesn't focus on what he's doing, he can make it up to a good number. It's only a pass if they make it to 30.

Five. Beep.

Peter's chest is already starting to burn. Not too bad, but not pleasant either. Ned keeps sending him worried looks over his shoulder, to which Peter smiles lightly to prove he's okay.

Ned obviously doesn't believe it, but there's nothing he can do at this point.

8\. Beep.

Someone's shoe goes flying across the room and their forced to drop out early. (That was literally me. I'd purposefully leave my shoes untied so they'd 'accidentally' come off and I'd have to stop running)

Peter's chest is getting tighter with anxiety because he knows his airways are going to block off sometime soon and it's going to be really shitty and really embarrassing.

15\. Beep.

Peter's feet are starting to get clumsier, almost tripping over his own feet and then needing to speed up to make it for the next beep.

21\. Beep.

His chest is getting really tight now and his stomach is starting to knot inside him. His breaths are coming in fast wheezes and Ned is staring at him with wide eyes, slowing down a little to run beside the younger boy.

25\. Beep.

"5 more to go and then you can drop out, okay? That's your goal. Don't push it," Ned says, breaths shaking a little, puffing as he continues to run alongside the younger boy. 

Peter opens his mouth to respond, but can't seem to find his voice between the struggling puffs of air.

26\. Beep.

Peter fumbles again, grabbing onto Ned's arm to keep his balance as his vision spots, heaving for air. His chest is burning burning burning.

"Peter! Hey, if you need to stop, then stop. Don't keep going if you can't," Ned says, holding his best friend up as they continue to run, faster and faster.

27\. Beep.

This is when the coughing starts up. Coughing and coughing and he can't suck in any air anymore and his vision is darkening and all he knows is he keep running. Running, hunched over, coughs wracking through his body, squeezing onto Ned's arm tighter.

He can barely see straight and his lungs are aching.

28\. Beep.

He's barely staying on his feet as Ned hauls him along towards the other end of the gym, legs leaden and struggling to continue as his lungs burn and burn and burn.

His vision is blurring, stomach twisting in knots as he coughs some more, breath coming in wheezing rattles.

"Breathe, Peter. Please. We've got 2 more laps to do. Deep breaths. Best as you can," Ned struggles to reassure. Somehow he manages to make it on time to the line despite hauling another person along with him.

Peter wants to flip him off. He is trying. He's trying to breathe as much as he can, but it's hard when his windpipes are closing in on themselves.

29\. Beep.

He's stumbling over his own feet, heart racing and racing and racing. Chest is burning and burning and burning. Breaths wheezing and coughing and struggling to push them in and out of his body.

Ned has his arm wrapped around Peter's waist to keep him partially upright as Peter stumbles and fumbles and trembles, vision blurring and stomach tightening.

30\. Beep.

Peter collapses to the floor at the line, immediately curling up into a fetal position as his lungs heave for air that he can't seem to get in, wheezing more and more.

Ned races off for the locker rooms to find Peter's inhaler, but Peter worries it's already too late, coughing harder to try to get a breath into his aching lungs.

The coughing makes his stomach roll more and he's barely able to sit up before he's throwing up all down the front of his shirt and into his lap, body shaking harder as he starts to cry.

The breaths just aren't coming and his vision is getting worse, the smell of his own sick assaulting his nose.

Ned finally returns, inhaler in hand as he pushes past the teacher with a glare. He falls to his knees in front of Peter pushing the inhaler into Peter's mouth.

But nothing happens. Nothing can happen.

The inhaler is empty. Old. Peter never switched it out for his new one.

Peter sobs, coughing and coughing and burning and burning.

Ned fumbles for Peter's watch, hitting the panic button as many times as he can.

Ned presses a hand to Peter's chest, ignoring the vomit on the sweaty t-shirt, feeling the frantic pace of his heart and the heaving of his lungs as he struggles to get air in.

"We need a nurse! Get the nurse!" Ned shouts, despite knowing no one will go.

To their surprise, MJ stands from across the room, dropping her book onto her chair and racing down the hallway.

"Calm down, Peter. Freaking out isn't going to help you," Ned says, keeping his voice calm as he tries to exaggerate his breathing for Peter to try to match.

But Peter's eyes are glaring over, tears never ceasing as he trembles in his panic, hands fumbling for Ned's shirt.

"Dad-" Peter whines desperately, coughing starting up again.

And then the Tony comes racing through the gym doors, eyes wide with a panic.

"Peter!" He calls, before his eyes land on his struggling son.

He immediately understands what's going on as the beep test soundtrack stops in the background.

Tony falls to the ground in front of his son, pulling an inhaler out of his backpack that he has for emergencies.

He pushes the little device into his kid's mouth, telling him to breathe and calm down.

It takes minutes of coaxing and soft words before Peter's breathing is closer to normal except for the tears still falling down his sweaty face.

"Why would you do that?" Tony asks, cupping his kid's face in his hands, ignoring the sweat and throw up.

"Mr. Robertson was calling him weak," Ned responds quietly from where he's sitting a few feet away now, trying to calm himself down too. "He was calling him a liar and weak. He was making fun of you too. Peter just wanted to prove him wrong."

"Petey, baby, you don't need to do that. You scared me so so bad. I was so worried when I got that signal," Tony murmurs, running his fingers through Peter's sweaty curls.

"I'm sorry," Peter cries, wanting nothing more than a hug and comfort, but also knowing he's covered in his own sick and Tony's wearing a nice suit.

But despite everything he thinks, Tony pulls him into a tight hug, whispering soothing words to calm his child's breathing.

When Tony pulls away, he glares at the gym teacher lingering nearby.

"I'm going to get your ass fired. And then I'm going to sue you, okay? If I had been even a few minutes late, Peter would've passed out and then he would need serious medical attention because you threatened him and made him feel like he had something to prove. You ignored his medical condition and made him do something he's not allowed to do. You're a fucking asshole," Tony snarls, holding himself protectively between his kid and the teacher.

The teacher simply rolls his eyes and stalks off.

MJ races back in, nurse in tow towards Peter's still trembling body on the floor.

It takes only a few minutes for her to check him over.

"He's good to go home. I recommend a few days of bed rest to let his lungs reach their full capacity again. Don't try to run like that ever again and make sure you've got your inhaler on you at all times while in gym class. Other than that, I think you're good to go home. I'll sign you out for you," the nurse says, offering Peter a reassuring smile before heading off again.

Tony pulls Peter into another tight hug.

"Never, ever scare me like that again, okay? You really scared me. You've got nothing to prove," Tony murmurs, pressing a kiss to Peter's hair.

"I'm sorry," Peter whines quietly, looking up at his dad with sad eyes.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart. Don't apologize. It's okay. Let's get you home, yeah? Get you into some pajamas, we can watch Star Wars, hot chocolate, maybe even popcorn if you're lucky."


	19. 19-Kidnapped

Spider-Man always knew he was in danger of getting kidnapped. There had been a lot of failed attempts throughout his work as a hero. There was the time when he just started and Ross tried to kidnap him because of his vigilante/mutant status. There was the time a group of criminals escaped from prison and tried to kidnap him. There was the time a random old lady tried to kidnap him because she was lonely and thought Spider-Man was a good catch. (He ended up staying at her house for a few hours playing Go Fish with her but that's besides the point.) There was the time The Vulture's crew tried to kidnap him for locking up their boss. And there was the second time Ross tried to kidnap him, again because of his vigilante/mutant status.

Never, ever had he thought someone would target him as Peter Parker. He never thought anybody would try to kidnap the lonely nerdy kid that barely existed in anyone's minds but Tony, Happy, Pepper, May, and his school. Even then, his school didn't really know him too well at all either. He practically ghosted through the day except for Ned. And occasionally MJ. And his bully, Flash. And Happy ignored him to the best of his abilities. And Pepper was normally too busy to interact with the kid.

So he never really thought that he, the invisible Peter Parker, would get targeted by a gang of people. 

*

Of course, when he woke up, strapped to a table, alone, he knew he should've been more careful and considered the idea that maybe people would figure out his identity despite being so careful. Maybe they just wanted him because he was Tony's personal intern. Maybe they just wanted him because he was an easy target.

Whatever it may be, he knows he has to get out of here as soon as possible. Who knows what they want to do with him?

The room is small. Cold. Simple tiled flooring and white walls, mold creeping up in the far corners. A table sits beside his bed?, but the objects are too far for him to really tell what they are. All metal.

The metal slate that he's strapped to is bare, tilted upwards so he's almost in an upright position, though his feet can't touch the floor.

And then there's a big metal door on the wall opposite him. 4 or 5 locks bolting it in place.

He's only in his pair of boxers, chest and legs exposed to the chill air. That means he's missing his phone, watch, and backpack. Meaning he has no way to contact Mister Stark or May.

Therefore, he has to get out of this place by himself somehow.

He tugs at his wrist restraints, twisting and pulling with as much strength as he can.

But a voice makes him freeze. "I wouldn't struggle so much if I were you. Every time you disobey, punishments get worse."

The voice sounds vaguely familiar. Like he'd heard it a really long time ago, but can't remember why or where or, most importantly, who.

It's a man's voice, that much is clear, but from the pitch and tone, doesn't sound very old. Maybe early to late 30s.

"Let me go," Peter growls in response, tugging harder at his wrist restraints. He knows he shouldn't bother trying when it comes to his ankle restraints yet.

"Shush. No whining from you just yet. It's lights off for the next, hmm... 5 hours. I suggest you get some rest, Mister Parker," the voice drawls from over the speakers.

"Fuck you," Peter mutters, already worried about whatever this punishment is going to be. What's going to happen in 5 hours?

"Goodnight." With the voice, there's a little click signaling the microphone has shut off and then the room plunges into darkness. 

*

Peter tried his best not to sleep, the anxiety making his stomach roll and knot, but he knew sleeping would hopefully make the next day easier to get through. He can't believe he's already planning for the next day in this strange place. So far, it hasn't been that bad. Uncomfortable, unwanted, but not bad per se.

The lights flick on at exactly 6 am, according to the clock on the wall beside the door. He hadn't slept well, but nobody had tried anything while he slept, so he counts that as a win.

The locks click open very slowly, one at a time. And the longer he waits, the more the anxiety Wells up inside his chest.

He just wants Tony. He wants Iron Man to come swooping in and save him. But it's unlikely anyone's even realized he's missing yet. May was working a late shift and probably went straight to bed. She'll think Peter left for school before she wakes up. Until the school calls May asking if he's home with her, only then will the panic ensue. Peter knows he has to endure the majority of the day here, but he has faith Mister Stark will find him by tonight.

The door finally opens, and Peter meets the man's eyes with determination.

"Good to see you're awake. Hope you slept well, Mister Parker," The man drawls, the same man from the PA system.

Peter doesn't respond, clamping his mouth shut and simply glaring at the man in front of him.

A smaller woman walks in a moment later, meeting his glare head on.

She has blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, a pen sticking through the middle. She wears clicking high heels like Pepper does and even a similar pantsuit to one he'd seen Pepper wear. Her thin lips form an almost cruel smile as she looks him over.

"Scrawny," she says, British accent prominent in her voice.

Peter briefly wonders if they've flown them all the way to England before deciding that's a stupid idea, he couldn't have been gone for that long.

"Yes, but very strong," The man responds, eyes twinkling with excitement.

"We can do a lot with this one," the lady decides, pulling a notepad out of the waistband of her pencil skirt, flipping it open and pulling out a chair from somewhere behind Peter. The teenager can't help but notice the gun she has on the opposite side of where her notepad was.

She sits, crossing her legs and pulling the pen out from her bun.

"Let's begin, shall we?" the lady says, offering another smile. "If you cooperate, nothing bad will happen to you. We will even consider setting you free. There will be punishments if you decide not to cooperate with us. If you've been exceptionally good, we grant rewards such as better food, outside time, more water, even a bed in the future."

"Fuck you," I spit, clenching my hands into fists to hide their trembling.

"That just won't do. Shall I go over the list of Do's and Don't's for Mister Parker to follow?" The lady says, turning to the man.

"He doesn't seem to want to cooperate. So do that, and then go over some of the punishments we have for breaking rules. Test some out if you'd like. I'm going out," The man says.

"Yes, sir," the woman replies, watching him leave before turning back to Peter.

"The rules here are quite simple to follow..."

The next 4 hours are spent engraining the rules into him and showing him just how severe punishments can be if he doesn't cooperate.

1\. Don't talk back

2\. Don't look anyone in the eyes

3\. Never complain

4\. Speak only when spoken to

5\. Silent during lights out

6\. Don't question authority

7\. Don't resist 

Those 7 rules are never to be broken under any circumstances. Or else punishment.

The lady showed a few of them to Peter including whipping his stomach a few times, electrocuting him, and making deep cuts in his thighs. He knows he heals quickly, but if he doesn't get the right amount of sleep and food, he won't heal fast enough to survive too many punishments.

But Peter also knows he's not going to breathe a word to them if they ask him questions about Tony. He won't. 

*

The man returns not long later and he smiles at Peter's wounds.

"You told him the rules?" The man asks, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I did, Justin," the lady responds, smiling back.

That's when it hits him. Justin Hammer. That's why he's so obsessed with getting answers about SI. That's why he's so obsessed with Tony.

Peter doesn't let the surprise show on his face, keeping his expression neutral, uncaring.

"So, Mister Parker, are you willing to cooperate now or will we be needing some equipment with us?" Justin says, smirking as the teenage boy squirms under his gaze.

"Fuck you," Peter breathes, all his muscles tensing, readying for the punishment he's sure will ensue.

But Justin laughs. "Don't think we don't know your secrets, Mister Parker. We know all about your late night escapades. We know all about Spider-Man. Don't think we won't use this as an advantage over you."

Peter squirms more, trying to move away from the man as he walks closer.

"Fuck you," Peter cries, body trembling with fear. He wants to be home. He wants Tony to come save him. He wants to curl up under some blankets, drink hot chocolate, and watch Star Wars with Tony.

"You're just begging to punished, aren't you? That's secretly what you want, isn't it?" Justin ponders, eyes angry.

"Leave me alone," Peter whines quietly, turning his head away from the man.

"Send in Antonio. Tell him The Subject hasn't fully understood the rules here. He's broken Rule Number One multiple times," Justin instructs the lady who scurries out quickly to go find the man, heels clicking as she goes.

Peter's left alone with Antonio, fists pounding into every open space on his body, even moving ahead and grabbing a scalpel from the table.

Peter's never screamed louder. 

*

"It's been 3 weeks," Rhodey murmurs. "Call him. Please. For Peter."

The rift between the avengers had been mended except for between Steve and Tony. Tony doesn't think he'll be able to forgive Steve for what happened. But he needs every hand he can get to find his kid.

Tony grumbles incoherently before dialing the number he'd memorized from years ago.

"Hello?" The captain says, voice light.

"It's Tony Stark. I need your help."

  
Steve arrives about an hour later, lots of questions on his mind.

Tony regards him with forced casualness, as though he isn't plagued of his near death experience every time he sees Steve.

"What's going on?" Steve asks, knowing this is a serious situation.

Tony swallows thickly, distress clear in his expression. "Peter Parker was kidnapped 3 weeks ago and we have to find him. ASAP. We have very few leads and... And I'm worried sick. We don't even know if he's alive."

Steve shakes his head, eyes squinting a little. "Who's Peter?" 

Tony sighs, looking down. Luckily, Rhodey steps in. "Peter's Spider-Man. He was walking home from school and never made it home. We've checked every security camera and we have very little footage from the scene. Just enough to know he was kidnapped. The van just disappears down one of the roads and we can't track it after that."

"School?" Steve questions. "He sounded young... But that young?"

"He's 16," Tony sighs, refusing to look the other in the eye. "I just need your help to find him. Natasha, Sam, Clint, me and Rhodey have been checking through footage and any buildings around Queens, but so far nothing. We can't find him at all. He seems to have just disappeared off the face of the earth."

"I'll do whatever I can."

And despite everything, Tony smiles. It's nice to have the team back together.

  
Hours pass and nothing. Even with Steve helping them out, nothing. No sign of Peter anywhere. Tony's losing hope quickly. 

And then the TV flickers on across the room. 

Justin Hammer is standing in front with a lady behind him. 

"Fuck," Tony mumbles, everyone's attention turning towards the screen.

_"Hope you're all comfortable for this. I've got a special surprise for you. Come on out, boy," Justin drawls, gesturing behind him._

_The boy walks into frame, hands shackled behind his back, ankles in loose chains as well. Curly hair getting too long and falling over his forehead in messy waves. He keeps his head down, eyes trained on the floor._

_"Subject has been trained well to be good," the lady says, watching the boy with careful eyes. She looks back up to Justin. "It is the end of time needed with The Subject."_

_"What do you suggest? Kill him or send him back to Stark. Which will hurt more?" Justin questions._

_The kid makes no acknowledgement to the scene unfolding before him, keeping his head down, shoulders tense._

_"I'm not sure, sir," the lady says, frowning deeply._

_"Maybe we ask him?" Justin suggests, throwing a malicious smile towards the camera. "Subject, what would you prefer? Go home or get killed?"_

_Peter finally looks up a little bit, eyes still downcast and expression unreadable. There's a deep bruise on his cheek, but the camera doesn't show anything below the shoulders, so the avengers can't assess any more of the damage._

_"It's up to you, sir," Peter says, voice too quiet, too submissive._

_"Good boy," Justin murmurs._

Tony chokes, wishing he could turn his eyes away from the screen. 

_Peter looks up just a fraction of an inch, but this seems to scare him and he takes a shaky step backwards. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"_

_"That's alright. The Rules won't matter soon. I need an answer from you, Subject. Die or Go home? You wanna see your precious Stark again or would you prefer to die here?" Justin demands, angrier than before._

_Peter flinches hard at the strong voice, shoulders curling over himself. "It is up to you, sir."_

_"No. Answer me. What do you want?" Justin tosses another coy smile over his shoulder to the camera._

_"I do not want anything. I will not complain. I will not question authority. I will not talk back," Peter recites._

_"It appears we might have trained him too well, sir," the lady says, a laugh on her tone._

_"Subject, do you wish to see Tony Stark again?" Justin asks._

_This makes Peter lift his head to look at the camera, eyes full of unshed tears, the pain visible across his otherwise empty expression._

_"Tony Stark isn't coming," Peter says, though it sounds more like a question than anything._

Tears are falling down Tony's face unwillingly, heart cracking inside his chest.

_"You can go to Stark," Justin explains patiently, eyes trained on the subject._

_"I can leave?" Peter questions, looking unsure._

_"Yep. You can leave right now. Go ahead. You may accompany him to the entrance," Justin says, but the glint in his eyes tell a different story to the one he tells the teenager._

_"Thank you, sir," Peter murmurs, shuffling out of view followed by the lady._

_"What a good boy," Jason says, turning back to the camera as the door shuts loudly out of view. "You see, what he doesn't know is just how hurt he really is. I don't think he'll even make it to the main road. This is where the fun begins. Tony Stark, you must find your precious Peter Parker before he inevitably passes out and dies somewhere near here. I wish you luck."_

_Another smirk and twinkle of his eyes before the camera shuts off._

"Fri, did you get a location?" Tony chokes out, pushing his fists against his eyes to stop his emotions. 

"Not an exact location, but a general area from which the camera signals were coming from. Would you like me to input these coordinates into your suit?" Friday replies. 

"Get the coordinates to a quinjet instead. We're all going," Tony instructs. "Steve, Sam, Clint, you find Hammer. Make him pay for this. Nat, Bruce you're with me. We've gotta find the kid before it's too late."

  
*

  
Peter realizes his mistake too late. It all seemed too good to be true. And it was.

It's only been maybe half an hour since he left the house, but he's close to collapsing. He has to keep taking breaks to calm his racing heart and give his aching wounds a break. 

They'd whipped the kid, cut him up, beat him to a pulp, electrocuted him, even shot him, more times than he can count. He didn't give up any information, but he conformed to their rules. Stopped fighting back. Stopped trying so hard to be a hero. He just couldn't handle the pain any longer. He just wanted to go home. And now he's given the chance, and he doesn't even know where he is. He just has to hold on until Tony finds him.

So he continues to stumble down the empty street, barely able to heave in enough air to breathe right. 

He fumbles again, taking too big of a stride and his ankle restraints pull taut and he trips forwards. His hands are still behind his back so his face takes the brunt of the fall, blood dripping steadily down his face from his new cut on his forehead.

His head is pounding, vision blurring as he continues to force on foot after the other. He's gotta get to Tony. That's all he wants to do. That's all he needs. He'd be content with dying if he just got one more hug from Tony.

"Peter!" Someone screams from somewhere off to his left. It's a female voice, not Tony, and it's way too far away. His enhanced hearing could catch it, but he'd never be able to yell back loud enough.

Even just thinking about his enhanced hearing makes his ears ring. His stomach grumbles painfully and he stumbles again, not falling but getting close to. He's so tired. So so tired.

He takes another step and his knee gives out, sending him collapsing painfully to the concrete sidewalk. He cries out quietly in pain, tears forming in his eyes all over again. He's never going to get to see Tony again and that hurts worse than any of the torture he'd been through.

"Peter! Underoos!" Tony yells. Peter's sure it's Tony this time. And he's not too far away. He's probably in the Iron Man suit.

Peter's body relaxes at that thought. Tony's going to find him. Tony's going to take care of him, he's sure of that. 

"Peter?" The voice is closer this time and he hears the sound of the repulsors shut off not too far away from him. 

He lifts his head carefully, spitting out some of the blood that had made it's way into his mouth from his bloody nose.

"T'ny," Peter whimpers, falling over himself to get himself up to his knees.

Tony's arms wrap protectively around the teenager's body, hugging his small body to his chest easily.

"T'ny," Peter whines again, choking on a sob as he tugs at his wrist restraints. 

"It's okay. It's okay. I've got you. You're okay. You're going to be okay. I swear. I've got you," Tony rambles, cupping the back of Peter's head and holding it against the crook of his neck, the other arm wrapped tightly around Peter's back.

Peter sobs harder, pushing himself as close to Tony as he can manage, tears and snot and blood smearing on Tony's t-shirt, but neither of them care in the slightest.

Peter can feel Tony tears in his hair and his hands don't loosen their grip for a very long time, listening to his father-figure's loud heartbeat. 

"I've got you. You're going to be okay. I'm never going to let someone hurt you ever again, okay?" Tony reassures, sniffling in Peter's curls. 

"I love you," Peter chokes out, tucking his face farther into the crook of Tony's neck, breathing in the scent of motor oil.

"Oh, Pete," Tony breathes, fingers gripping Peter's shirt tighter. "I love you too, kid. I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof writing kidnapped ones are hard because I always feel like it needs more to them sorry I'm considering writing a full kidnapped fic at some point but idk yet


	20. 20-Isolation

Peter couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep very well for a long time. He'd go nights without sleeping and then pass out one day so his body would survive the sleepless nights.

Ever since May died.

It was like Ben all over again. He was in passenger. Everything happened too fast for him to react. The car slammed into May's side of the car. The car went spinning. Glass shattering everywhere.

When Peter came to in a hospital, May had already passed away.

Peter moved in with Tony.

It's been 3 months.

He's barely slept since. A couple hours every couple days at most.

Tony's been giving him space. Time.

Peter's thankful. But he doesn't feel like he's getting better. Doesn't feel like anything can get better after the hell he'd been through. 

It's a regular Saturday morning. Peter watches the sun rise from his balcony overlooking the city. It's barely 6 in the morning. He didn't get a wink of sleep, instead brushing himself with homework and reading and binging Supernatural. It's an understatement to say that he's tired.

The sun rises gently over the horizon, peeking out between the buildings and trees as Peter watches with drooping eyes.

Once it reaches 8, he makes his way down to the kitchen. Tony won't be up for another few hours, he thinks that Peter sleeps in too. Unfortunately, that's not the case.

Peter makes some coffee, humming quietly to himself as he waits. Luckily, he hasn't gotten irritable with the lack of sleep, just drowsy and clumsy. He hasn't gone patrolling since before the crash, so he doesn't have to worry about the clumsiness causing him problems.

He sways his hips a little bit to the tuneless humming, pouring his coffee into a large mug and dousing it in sugar and milk. No matter how many times he drinks it, he'll never like the taste of coffee.

He heads to the living room, letting his shoulders hunch over his body as he sits in a chair next to a huge window. He like looking outside frequently because it's rare for him to have the energy to actually appreciate the outdoors. 

He's switched to mostly online schooling, only going in once a week for Chemistry labs or math tests. Mostly it's to see Ned and remind him they're still friends. Peter says he'll go back to school next semester, but he's still unsure for he'll be okay enough to handle it. He's lost his last piece of family. He's got Tony, but he still acts like a mentor instead of the father-figure Peter needs.

Peter gets lost in his thoughts, watching cars drive by, so small from so high up.

Peter decides that's how he feels. Everyone else is watching from up high, and he's the little car way down below, struggling along through traffic.

"Hey, kid," Tony mumbles gruffly, shuffling to the kitchen for his morning cup of coffee. "You're up early."

"So are you," Peter deflects, tearing his eyes away from the scene down below.

Tony shrugs, dropping the argument as he sits across from Peter. He looks well rested for someone who claims to never sleep. He's been sleeping a lot more since Peter started living at the tower full time. He knows he has to be there for the kid and that means being in a good mental state, just so he can carry the burden of the kid's trauma.

Peter looks pretty wrecked, but it's a long time since he's looked any different. Tony's learned not to question it.

"How was your night?" Tony asks casually, but Peter sees right through.

"I slept fine." But it's a blatant lie. He knows Peter hasn't been sleeping well, he just doesn't know how he, insomniac extraordinaire is meant to help him with it.

"Did you get your homework done?" Tony asks.

"I'm a month ahead of the schedule," Peter sighs, refusing to meet the billionaire's gaze. He stares down into his empty mug.

"That's a lot of coffee," Tony remarks in turn. He just wants Peter to open up without having to question everything.

"Yeah. Woke up earlier than normal," Peter says, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the rim of the mug.

"I know that's not true, Peter," Tony sighs pointedly.

Peter doesn't respond, he doesn't even look there. His mind somewhere far off in thought. Zombie-like on even the best days.

"When was the last time you slept, kid? I can get you sleeping pills if that's what you need," Tony suggests. He'd do anything to make his kid feel better.

"I have sleeping pills. Just don't take them," Peter shrugs. "It's okay. I'm fine. Stop it. What do you want for breakfast?"

Tony knows it's stupid. He knows he can't just let the kid fall into the same pit of self-destruction that he's been in one too many times. But he doesn't want to push. It's too soon. It's only been 3 months since May, 3 years since Ben, and 9 years since his parents. It feels too soon to be opening old wounds or prodding at still fresh ones.

So Tony sighs and offers to cook eggs and toast. 

*

"The last thing he needs is someone pushing him to do things he doesn't want to," Tony sighs, barely paying attention to Pepper.

"You're just letting him coop himself up. When was the last time you've seen him leave the house besides for school once a week?" Pepper replies, sounding aggravated.

Tony opens his mouth to respond, but finds himself without an answer.

"He doesn't want to go out as Spider-Man right now. It's too early," Tony says, finally looking up at his wife.

"I'm not saying to send him out in a suit. I'm telling you to take him outside. Take him on a walk. Send him on a run with Steve. Make him do something. He needs to get his mind off of everything. Stewing in his self-loathing and pity isn't going to make anything better," Pepper says, patting Tony on the shoulder. "Don't you wish you had someone looking out for you after your parents?"

"I had Rhodey," Tony argues.

"Yeah, but you were stubborn. I don't think Peter will be. He needs you now more than ever. So go be a dad for him."

She walks out and Tony knows she's right. She's never been more right. Well that's probably a lie, she's always right. About everything. This is just another one of those times.

Maybe space isn't what Peter needs, maybe he needs a shoulder to cry on. Tony's willing to be that. 

*

"I'm _tired_ , Mister Stark. I don't want to go _running_ ," Peter argues, eyes wide and confused evident across his features.

"Running will make you feel better," Tony says. Maybe Pepper was wrong, maybe Peter will be stubborn.

"No. I dropped out of gym for a reason, Mister Stark. Can't we just go for a nice walk?" Peter suggests.

Compromising, Tony can work with that.

"Yeah, sure, kid. I know a nice trail we can walk that's just a little ways behind the tower. It'll be nice. Just let me get changed."

They find themselves at a quaint little waterfall in the forest behind the tower. It's soft. Something you'd find in a fairy tale.

Peter sits down beside the waterfall, letting his fingertips touch the cool water. Tony sits next to him, offering him a small smile.

"Know it's been a long time since you've used those muscles of yours, kid," Tony teases, but there's something heartfelt behind the words.

"Haven't been outside since..." Peter trails off, not even wanting to think about it. His mind feels light for the first time in a long time simply walking in silence beside Tony. But the weight hasn't totally disappeared. It's still there because of how many boxes of emotions he has locked somewhere in the depths of his mind.

"Kid... I know it's hard, but you have to start dealing with your grief. You can't just let it pile up inside you-"

"You have no idea what this is like," Peter mutters, focusing his attention on the soft stream of water beneath his fingers.

"I lost my parents too, kid," Tony tries to explain.

"You weren't there. You didn't have to watch it happen. I had to watch Ben die. I had to watch May die. After losing my parents... I- I didn't think it was possible to feel worse. But then Ben... And now..." Peter trails off again. He hates that Tony is trying to unbox the emotions. He's got them sorted and stacked in his mind with labels and everything. 

"I know. I'm sorry. Sucks, doesn't it?"

Peter nods despite his inner thoughts about wanting to leave Tony here and just go back to the safety of his bedroom. But truthfully, he knows if May could see him, she'd be disappointed at how badly he's dealing with all of this. She'd want him to get better again.

"Yeah... Just... Every time I try to sleep I'm forced to relive it over and over again. I just... I stopped sleeping. It was easier than trying to deal with the nightmares. Makes it easier to box it all up. But it's so heavy and there's so much of it now," Peter tries to explain.

Somehow, Tony seems to understand, nodding through Peter's soft words. "You have to deal with it though, kid. You can't just keep stacking it all up and hoping it'll never overflow. Because, trust me, it will. It'll overflow before you know it and then you'll be stuck with all your boxes on the floor."

Peter nods again, trying to blink away the tears, but the words are making it hard to keep the boxes closed.

"I just feel so guilty all the time," Peter whispers, voice thick with the overflowing emotions. "I keep wishing the car hit passenger instead of driver. I keep wishing I had tried to stop the robber and he shot me instead. I keep wishing my parents had taken me with them on their business trip. I keep wishing it was me instead of them." Peter's voice is wobbling and his body is trembling a little bit at the strain of holding his head together.

Tony heaves out a long sigh, wrapping an arm tightly around the boy's shoulder. Peter immediately turns into the hug, hiding his face in Tony's shirt like a child would. His back shakes under Tony's hold, but he still refuses to let the tears fall because that means it's real. That means he'll be accepting May's death. That means that May really is gone.

"I want them back," Peter whines, voice muffled in Tony's shirt. "I feel so alone... All the time. I hate doing this by myself. I want them back. I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone, kiddie. I've got you. I'm in your corner, always will be. I've got you," Tony murmurs, planting some kisses in Peter's curls. Something about this kid makes all of his defenses shatter. Makes him feel things.

Peter's shoulders tighten, pushing his face harder into Tony's chest. "What's wrong with me? Everyone around me dies. I'm bad luck. I can't- I can't lose you too. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm here for the long run, yeah? It's not you. There's nothing wrong with you. Bad things happen to good people. And you have a knack for surrounding yourself with good people. Lucky for you, I'm not a good person," Tony says, trying to add some light tones to the conversation.

"You're a hero, Mister Stark. You're not a bad person," Peter argues. "If you were a bad person, would you really have walked all this way with me just to help me with my boxes of emotions."

"Good point, kid. I think maybe you have a knack for making everyone around you better," Tony says quietly. There's too many seconds of silence where Peter's body quivers and he sniffles to try to hold the tears back. "You're allowed to cry, kiddie. I know it's hard. I know it's been really tough for you lately. You're allowed to cry. You're allowed to break down."

This is all Peter needs for him to let go, open the flood gates. 

He sobs and cries and clings onto Tony's shirt like a lifeline, wishing that simply letting go of the emotions will make everything feel better.

It's not quite so easy.

  
They make it a routine. If Peter can't sleep, he'll go to Tony. He feels bad about it a lot, thinking he's dragging Tony away from his regular sleep schedule, but Tony always reassures that missing a few nights isn't going to hurt him. He's done worse. 

They'll have hot chocolate and watch a movie. Tony keeps trying to find a movie that's boring so Peter will fall asleep, but Peter's heart seems to love everything. Fault in our Stars makes him cry every time, he gets super excited when watching nature documentaries, adventure movies are a no go, romance movies make Peter either cry out of happiness or cry out of sadness - normally both, Peter laughs at everything so comedies are a definite no, even old documentaries on the most boring things Peter will find intriguing.

Tony half thinks it's endearing, half thinks it's annoying. After weeks of trying, he decided to just put on some music and let Peter listen to Tony's breathing and heartbeat. It seems to do the trick unless it's Disney music or Musicals, that does the opposite of what he wants.

Once he finds out that works, he starts playing piano for Peter on particularly bad nights. Peter even starts to learn a few songs from how many times he's watched Tony play them.

Some nights, they put on soft music and Peter unboxes all his emotions to Tony. He sometimes cries, sometimes falls asleep before he can.

Either way, Peter never really feels lonely anymore. Not with Tony at his side making sure he gets exactly what he needs and even everything he wants. He doesn't even ask anymore, he can look at Tony a specific way and Tony will draw him in for a hug or take him out to the waterfall or play the piano. 

It's not an automatic flip to make Peter feel better, but he's at least on the right road now. With Tony in his corner, it's hard to be lonely. 


	21. 21-Cyber-Bullying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Oops fuck I have 11 chapters to write in 2 days wtf am I doing ah. I'm gonna pull an all-nighter so I can get a bunch of chapters done sorry if these go downhill incredibly fast lmao}
> 
> {kay i literally wrote a whole chapter before deciding i didn't like it and restarting entirely. And I'm still not entirely happy with the outcome of this one. I don't have time for this brain ah}

  
"Peter Parker... You'll be paired with Isaac O'Connor for the project," the teacher announces. 

"You've gotta be kidding me," Isaac groans from across the room. He's rolling his eyes and his friends are all sending him sympathetic glances. 

Peter shrinks, pulling his shoulders closer to his body, trying to make himself invisible.

"Keep your comments to yourself, boys," the teacher glares. 

It had been almost a competition with Isaac to have the highest GPA in the grade. To his dismay, he was always losing to Peter Parker. The invisible boy who took every insult thrown in his direction without thought, without fight. 

Peter didn't care, he just enjoyed school. He was naturally smart and if he didn't understand, his mentor was always a text away and he'd be understanding the concepts in no time. 

Isaac sends a glare to Peter who shrinks further into himself somehow, ducking his gaze down to his paper.

An English project. Due next week, no class time. And he was partnered with Isaac. The guy who pushed him around and taunted him and glared at him and hit him a little too hard in gym class. 

Peter knew that if Isaac didn't care so much about grades, Peter would've been beaten to a pulp at least a few times already. But Isaac couldn't afford to have that sort of thing tainting his school records, so he stuck to sneering and insults for Peter. 

The things online were worse than anything else. Isaac could throw the worst insults at him on the internet and no one would ever know. Texts, DMs, tweets, even Instagram posts with hurtful captions were frequent. 

Isaac eventually made an entire account dedicated to just hating on Peter on Instagram. Full of him boasting about getting better marks on whatever test or just saying mean things about Peter. 

And Peter tried to ignore it. He tried so hard to ignore all the words and the messages and the insults, but it hurt. And Peter would find himself scrolling through message upon message in the dead of the night, normally on some roof in the city, mask strewn beside him, trying to quiet his choked sobs.

Because even though they're just high school boys being boys as a teacher tried to tell him when it first started, it hurt. It fucking hurt. The hate hurt Peter. 

He tried harder than anything to be a good person. To be likable. He had an adaptable personality to match others to make sure he was what people wanted him to be. He was happy. He was excitable. But somehow, everyone still hated his guts. 

And he couldn't figure out what he was doing wrong.

That afternoon, just after the bell had rung and the halls filled with students who just wanted to go home, Peter found Ned.

"You should talk to Mister Stark," Ned suggests. Like he always does. He's noticed the red-rimmed eyes, the deep circles under empty eyes, the pain masked by smiles and happiness. He's noticed the changes since Isaac had come to their school.

Peter's voice is hushed when he speaks, "I'm Spider-Man, Ned. I can't just tell Iron Man about some stupid texts."

"Texts?" Ned questions, voice higher than normal. He knew about the little shoves and the insults thrown at school. He knew about the Instagram account, but he had no idea Isaac was personally attacking his best friend through text messages.

Peter sighs, tired eyes falling to the floor. "It's fine, Ned... Yeah, he's been texting me. It's nothing new. It's whatever, really. I just can't believe I'm actually paired with him for a project."

"Are you going to have to go over to his house or something?" Ned questions. He doesn't want Peter to be in an unsupervised place with Isaac. He's sure Isaac would try something. 

"I don't know yet," Peter shrugs, looking back up at Ned. "I'm sure it'll be fine. It's not as though he's that bad. I've been dealing with this sort of thing since middle school. It's not as though Flash was much nicer."

"Has Flash stopped?" Ned asks.

Peter sighs a little, shrugging as he drops his gaze to his shoes. 

"He hasn't, has he?" 

"It's more like Flash has decided he likes Isaac's way of doing things... They like tag-teaming me more often than not," Peter explains quietly. He winces a little as he adds, "Flash is a co-owner of that Instagram account."

"Shit, Peter. This isn't okay. You have to tell someone," Ned begs. Actually begs. He hates seeing his best friend so self-conscious of everything now. He's more anxious than he's been in a very long time. Peter's always so sad. And it's so obvious. And it hurts Ned to see his normally outgoing, extroverted friend like this.

Peter offers a small half-smile. "I've promised you before, but I'll promise it again. If it gets worse, I'll tell someone. I swear. I can handle it."

"You don't have to handle it-"

"Happy's picking me up tonight. I should get going. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

  
*  
  
Peter found himself scrolling through some of the most recent notifications he had gotten from his social media since school. He's curled up on the floor in Tony's bathroom. Tony had to leave for a meeting or something and Peter figures what better things to do than wallow in his self-loathing.   
  


_**Instagram** _

@\penisparkersucks: <image attached> his grades have been dropping lately. What a fucking dumbass. I don't know why teacher's think he's this great student lmao -Flash

@\pparkerr: where'd you get this? 

@\penisparkersucks: wouldn't you like to know lmao i bet it's just because your precious Stark does all your homework for you

  
_**DM** _

IsaacOconnor: hey penis i made you a poem

IsaacOconnor: Roses are red Violets are blue

IsaacOconnor: you should jump off a bridge

IsaacOconnor: everybody fucking hates you

  
  


_**Messages** _

Don't Respond-Isaac: hey penis i just wanted to remind you of what a burden you are

Don't Respond-Isaac: you fucking suck

Don't Respond-Isaac: everyone hates you. I don't see why you haven't fucking killed yourself yet

Don't Respond-Flash: you're so fucking stupid everyone hates you

Don't Respond-Flash: even your fat friend hates you. He just pretends to put up with you

Ned: hey man i saw what they posted on their account. You're not stupid. If you wanna talk, you know my number

Don't Respond-Flash: you're such a burden

Don't Respond-Isaac: no wonder your parents left you. I would've too. 

Don't Respond-Isaac: maybe you're just too stupid to know how. <attached file>

_How To Kill Yourself_

Don't Respond-Isaac: its even got steps for your stupid brain to understand. I'm sure you can learn how to tie a noose. Might be hard for you to do

Tears blur Peter's vision until he can no longer read his screen. Even Ned's kind words got drowned out by the two bullies who just wouldn't cease with their tormenting. 

He chokes on a sob, throwing his phone violently at the door. He hears it hit. But nothing breaks. Stupid Indestructible Starkphone. 

Peter draws his knees up to his chest, trying to quiet his crying lest someone walks by and question him.

"Mister Parker, you seem to be having a panic attack. Would you like me to contact Boss?" Friday interrupts.

"No!" Peter gasps, struggling to get his breathing under control so Friday can't be overrided by some dumb protocol. "No, I'm fine, Friday... Could you connect me to Karen?"

"Sure, Mini-Boss," Friday replies. 

A moment later, it's Karen's softer voice fills the bathroom. "Peter? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Karen," Peter sighs. 

He sits on the floor, listening to his AI talk for a few hours, trying to keep his attention off his phone which still lights up every few minutes with a new text or message with more hurtful words. 

  
*

  
Tony knew Peter had been acting off for a while. That Peter hadn't been totally okay for a long while. 

But he couldn't figure out why, and he was too scared to push it. 

When he returned back from the meeting, Peter was in the lab right where he was before like he had never moved. But the tear tracks were painfully obvious down Peter's pale cheeks.

"You wanna take a dinner break, kid? We'll come back and finish the project's afterwards, yeah?" Tony says, putting on his dad-voice as Rhodey had deemed it. Soft, gentle and patient for the kid.

Peter nods, following Tony back up to the kitchen where Tony brought out some leftover takeout from a few days prior. 

"You good to eat it cold?" Tony asks absentmindedly as he gets utensils from a drawer. 

Peter nods again, helping Tony move the boxes to the table and then they sit down. Tony at the head and Peter to his direct left. Just the two of them.

Peter's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket. 

The kid's flinch is poorly concealed and Tony plucks the phone from the kid's hands without a second thought.

"What about conversation, kid? I thought your aunt had a strict policy of no phones at the- oh." Tony's voice dies out in his throat as he sees the message. 

_Don't Respond-Isaac:_ _hey penis you're too fucking stupid so leave the project to me. You can just cry like the little baby you are and be fucking grateful when we get a good mark_

"It's nothing, Mister Stark." Peter's voice comes out too high, too shaky, too desperate as he easily pulls the phone from Tony's loose hold. 

He's shocked. Here's this amazing kid. Bright, happy, smart, kind, caring. All around amazing kid and he's getting texts like that? What the hell?

"Does that happen a lot, kid?" Tony finds himself asking, staring at the kid with wide eyes. Because of course this is the sort of gratitude Peter gets. Peter works his ass off saving the city every night, and people bully him. 

"No! No, Mister Stark. It's nothing. Just forget it," Peter begs desperately, shaking his head. 

His phone buzzes again and he turns it to Tony.

_Ned: hey man you wanna come over next weekend? I found that lego set we never finished_

"See. It's nothing. It's just Ned. Please just forget it," Peter implores, eyes wide as he stares up at his mentor. "Please."

"Fine, kid. Yeah. Just high school drama. I'm so glad I'm over that," Tony says, forcing a small laugh.

  
*

  
That night, Peter finds himself doing it again. In the bathroom, knees tucked up to his chest, hand pressed over his mouth to conceal his cries as he scrolls through all the words thrown at him. 

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never break me. 

Screw that, Peter decides. Words hurt. Words cut deeper than hits ever would. Words carry so much more meaning than a punch would. Peter would've preferred beatings than this emotional pain.

They're just so mean. 

And Peter doesn't know how to deal with it, so he just tucks himself in a ball on the cold tiles and cries and wonders what he did to deserve this. 

  
*

  
Tony does the only thing he knows how to do after Peter says he's gone to bed, hack his Instagram account. 

And he's horrified by what he finds.

  
IsaacOconnor: fucking kill yourself penis

IsaacOconnor: no one would even notice if you just ceased to exist

IsaacOconnor: i would've left you too if you were my kid wtf

IsaacOconnor: youll never be what people want you to be. Give up

IsaacOconnor: your a pathetic fucking screwup

IsaacOconnor: fucking cry baby 

IsaacOconnor: your aunt's gonna leave you too. Just like your parents and your uncle. then youll be alone like you should be. Nobody should have to look at you every day. Fucking disgusting

IsaacOconnor: do everyone a favor and fucking kill yourself bitch

And that's just the top person. There's so many names and people as he scrolls through the list of people in Peter's DM's, all with the same awful words directed at the kid. 

There's pictures of Peter's test grades, all scoring high 80s to high 90s. Just like the smart kid he is. But all paired with disgusting captions, calling Peter stupid or dumb or annoying or some other childish insult. Some worse than others. 

Friday cuts him out of his internal death threats towards the people bullying his kid. 

"Boss, it appears Peter is in emotional distress."

That's all Tony needs to race for the stairs.

  
Tony knocks before pushing open the bathroom door where his kid is curled up on the floor. He's trembling with his cries of pain, muffled by a hand over his mouth, phone clutched tightly in his free hand.

Tony kneels down in front of the kid, gently taking the phone away from him. 

"Peter, kiddo, they're not going to do that anymore, okay? Everything they said were lies. You're so smart. So unbelievably smart. And you're so kind, so caring. You're such a good person, you hear me?" Tony says, cupping the kid's face and tipping his chin up so he can see the teenager's broken brown eyes. This is going to be harder than just hot chocolate and a hug. This pain is rooted. It's already taken hold and spread it's lies. 

"Tony," Peter whines in response, eyes filling with more tears as he stares up at his hero. "Tony."

Tony brings the kid into a tight hug in response, ignoring the ache in his knees from the tiled flooring. "I've got you, kiddie. I've got you. You're okay. I'm right here."

Peter whines again, burying his face in Tony's shirt. "They're so _mean_. They never stop. They just keep pushing. It's like they want me to actually do it. Like their life goal is to make me do it."

"Do what, Petey?"

"Die. Kill myself. They keep telling me to do it... All the time. Like it's their mission to push me over the edge."

"Would you?" Tony asks, feeling a panic spread through his chest. He can't lose his kid.

Luckily, Peter shakes his head. "Can't do that to you. Can't do that to May."

"Go to sleep, Petey. I'll get you to bed, okay? Just sleep," Tony murmurs, pressing kisses to his kid's hair and forehead.

"No more words?" Peter questions, voice muffled by Tony's shirt.

"No more words," Tony agrees. "I'll take care of everything, kiddie. Just sleep."

  
The emotional damage was hard for Tony and May to work through. Hard to de-root all the words that stuck. _Stupid, fuck-up, pathetic, hated._ Words that stuck in Peter's mind like they mattered. But they made sure to make Peter know they weren't true. Made sure Peter knew just how wonderful of a kid he really was. Replaced them with better words. _Kind, genius, caring, worthwhile, loved._ They couldn't quite get the words to stick, but they fought away all the bad ones. 

Ned explained the full extent of the bullying to Tony a few days after the realization and Tony had never felt anger like he did then. When he realized just how much hurt his kid was going through. He vowed he'd protect Peter better. Make sure Peter understood that Tony was there for him no matter what. 

For Isaac and Flash... Let's just say Tony took care of it and Peter would never have to deal with them again. 


	22. 22-Experiments

{This won't be done on time, but should be done by the end of the week.}

The Avengers has finally gotten a drop on a Hydra base not to far outside of New York in virtually the middle of nowhere.

Spider-Man wasn't necessarily an important asset to the team for fights like this; Captain America, Iron Man and Black Widow could take them all down no problem. But Peter was called in because of his enhanced hearing and spidey-senses which can help them get the information they needed before they had to actually do the job of getting rid of the Hydra agents. Whether it meant killing them or getting them ready for Shield to pick up.

Peter can't believe he's actually missing a Chem Lab for this.

On a Monday morning nonetheless.

"Okay. Peter, you're with me. We're going in first. Quiet, stealthy. Gathering information and getting numbers. When I call it, Steve and Nat, you can come in and we start fighting. Again, quiet, stealthy. The fight will only need to start when someone calls for reinforcements. According to the drop we got, there shouldn't be more than 50 people in the building total. Understand?" Tony explains, hands clasped in front of him as he paces before his team.

Peter yawns in response, covering his mouth lazily.

"What's up with you, Spidey? Late night?" Natasha laughs, turning to the boy. He's in his suit, sans mask.

"Little bit. May or may not have only gotten like 3.. okay, 2 hours of sleep. It's 10 am on a Monday. What do you expect?I'm functioning," Peter groans,

"Told you he's your kid, Tony," Steve says, smiling fondly at the tired kid beside him. Peter uses his soft fists to rub the sleep out of his eyes, yawning a little bit. His hair still messy and loosely curly.

"Shut up," Tony mutters, rolling his eyes, but there's an obvious care in his smile thrown at the kid. "We ready to go?"

"Yep," Peter says, letting enthusiasm bleed into his voice. "Let's mess some shit up!"

"Language!" Steve reprimands halfheartedly.

"And we're not messing anything up right now. We're being quiet and sneaky, remember?" Tony says.

Peter rolls his eyes and tugs his mask over his head.

*

Inside the building, Peter has to strain. His suit has a new upgrade that's he's turned on where the sounds and lights are no longer filtered like they normally are so he doesn't have a sensory overload while patrolling. They'll be turned on as soon as the fight begins, but for now they're off so he can eavesdrop on everything around him.

"Anything?" Tony whispers as they stop at an intersection. He's starting to get anxious. They haven't encountered anyone. Not a single person anywhere. And Peter still can't hear anything around him other than their two hearts, their two breathing. With how hard he's trying to listen for anything, he can even hear the blood moving through their bodies.

Peter shakes his head minutely, holding up his hand in hesitation. He doesn't want them turning a corner and getting shot at just because he said it was safe.

But still. Nothing.

"Hey, I know this sounds really stupid," Peter says, voice bouncing through the otherwise silent hallways. "Even though you've got like heart problems and stuff, your heartbeat is really strong and even."

"You can hear my heartbeat?" Tony questions, frowning down at the kid. He's standing a good foot away and he can still hear his heartbeat.

"Like a fire alarm, Mister Stark. Just-" Peter cuts himself off, eyes widening a little bit. He throws his hand up to stop the billionaire from speaking and drops into a crouch. "There's people talking."

Tony can't hear a thing, but he trusts the kid's abilities. "How far away?"

Peter's silent for a few too many seconds before he finally speaks. "5 or 6 floors down, I think from the air circulation and how much their voices carry."

"6 floors down? You can hear that far?" Tony exclaims quietly. He has no idea how the kid manages to function on a regular day if he can hear what's at least 60 feet down from them.

"Shh. I'm trying to hear what they're saying. They're whispering so their voices reverberate more than if they were talking. If we get to a stairwell I'd be able to hear it better, but I can try here." There's obvious uncertainty in Peter's voice, not wanting to let Tony down, but he's gotta try.

Peter pushes his ear against the floor, flinching almost instantly and pulling away. "Fuck, sorry. I can do this."

"What's wrong?" Tony asks, pulling the face plate away, figuring it was safe enough.

"Just really loud. There's running water in the pipes between the floors. Don't want to give myself a sensory overload before I've even managed to get any information," Peter mumbles absentmindedly as he takes a deep breath and pushes his ear back to the floor.

"You don't have to do this. We can get closer," Tony says, frowning at the kid.

"Safer here. I'll be fine," Peter says through clenched teeth.

Tony stops talking, letting the enhanced kid do his job.

"They said something about Captain America's serum... Shush," Peter says, looking back up to Tony. "I'm sorry. Can you try to breathe quieter?" Peter winces as the words leave his mouth.

Tony straightens his back. "I can leave, kid. I hate it, but I can go back down the hall so you can concentrate. Talk to us over the intercoms instead."

Peter nods, rolling his shoulders back before pressing his ear back to the floor.

Tony walks down the hallway to give Peter more space, making sure he's close enough to protect the kid if needed, but far enough so he isn't a distraction.

"They're still talking about Cap. Says they need his blood if they want to recreate it. Blah blah blah, we've heard the spiel about a thousand times from other Hydra bases... They're talking about me now. A Spider-Man Serum... They're wondering if they could make a formula for the serum's using their bases to create mutants with different animal breeds. A new voice is asking what kinds of animals. The first voice is saying... um, fuck... Bear... Lion... Ant. A third voice is laughing. Says Antman is already a thing. The first voice is angry, says he'll be kicked out if he thinks now is a good time to make jokes... Um... The second voice says they won't be able to make a serum without me and Cap... Fuck, fuck, fuck," Peter says, suddenly pulling his ear away from the floor and springing to his feet. He spins towards Tony.

"What is it?" Tony asks, hurrying back towards where Peter stands.

"They know we're here. They know. We need to go," he explains quickly, whites of the mask widening a little bit with the kid's panic.

"You good to fight?" Tony asks, knowing they have time before they're actually attacked.

Peter nods once, taking a deep breath through his mouth.

"You sure? You can sit this out if you want. It's better for you to be honest than for you to get hurt," Tony says quickly.

"Feeling a little sick, to be honest. Head's starting to hurt. But nothing I can't handle. I'm not missing a chemistry lab for nothing," Peter replies, straightening himself out and flexing his arms.

"Okay. If it gets too much, I want you to tell us and then head back to the plane. We'll be fine without your help," Tony says, squeezing the boys shoulder before turning back to the hallway. "Are they coming?"

Peter tips his head to the side, straining to hear more. He filters through the noises quickly. Tony's breathing, his breathing, Tony's heartbeat, his heartbeat, the water in the pipes, Tony's blood, the hushed voices from down below, and a very quiet beeping to the left.

"There's something beeping," Peter explains, pressing himself up to the wall and listening more intently. "Not a bomb... It's... It's morse code I think."

"You recite it, I'll translate, okay? I know you know morse code too, but focusing on listening and trying to figure it out might be a bit much for you."

Peter nods and throws all of his will into focusing in on the beeping.

"3 short beeps, one long beep... One short beep... Short beep, long beep, short beep... Long beep, short beep... Two short beeps... Long beep, short beep, long beep, short beep... 4 short beeps... Long beep... two short beeps, one long beep... long beep, short beep... two long beeps, one short beep. And repeats," Peter says, looking up at Tony as he catches his breath.

"V. E. R. N. I. C. H. T. U. N. G," Tony recites.

There's a beep of silence before Steve's voice comes in through the intercoms. "Vernichtung is German. It means annihilation."

"Or death," Nat says.

And then everything erupts in a bright, fiery explosion.

*

When Tony comes to, his suit is missing leaving him in a pair of nice jeans and a dress shirt. He's in a dim room, cement everywhere- all the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling- strapped to a metal chair.

Across from him, Peter's in the same boat except he can't wear clothing under his suit so he's only in his boxes, pupils blown with fear as he stares at Tony.

"Are you okay? It's been a long time and I haven't heard anything from anyone and you wouldn't wake up and your head's been bleeding. I was really really worried," Peter rambles.

"I'm fine, kid," Tony reassures. He's not lying. His head hurts a little bit from where he can feel the dried blood, but other than that, he doesn't think he's hurt at all.

Peter sniffles a little bit, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

"What about you? You okay?" Tony asks, checking Peter's body over for any harm.

He almost throws up when he sees it. Peter's thigh is covered in blood, painting the cement a dark red beneath him. A chunk of metal, at least 6 inches in diameter is stuck in Peter's thigh. A good 4 inches of it is visible, but the other 2 are dug into Peter's leg.

Other than that there's cuts and bruises pretty much everywhere visible.

"When the wall exploded, most of it hit me, not you from where we were standing," Peter explains quietly. "It doesn't hurt, but I think that's worse than if it were to hurt."

"How long have we been here?"

"I passed out when the wall exploded, but I woke up when they were strapping us in. I tried to fight them, but the explosion has made my senses really wonky. I can't see or hear very well at all. Like worse than before Spider-Man," Peter explains.

Suddenly it makes sense to Tony. Peter's talking quietly than he normally would, head tilted in Tony's direction like he's straining to even hear Tony's voice. Peter's pupils aren't so dilated because of fear, it's because he can't see very well.

"I guess it's because I was using my senses too much and then they were overloaded to the extreme and they freaked out or something. I don't know... But I'd say it's been at least half an hour, no more than an hour though," Peter says.

Tony hates the idea of Peter sitting by himself in the room without his senses to rely on.

"Okay, well Nat and Steve are probably fighting their way to us right now, kiddo. No need to panic. Half our team is on their way," Tony reassures, trying to rid himself of the anger igniting in his gut.

"Unless the explosion blocked the stairway. In that case, they're not going to be able to get to us in time," Peter says, eyes focused on his wound. "That's a lot of blood, Mister Stark. I'm not so sure..."

"Everything's going to be fine, kid," Tony reassures.

There's a few beats of silent and then the door opens.

Peter flinches, fingers curling into fists on the arms of his chair.

"Hello, Mister Stark, Mister Parker. It is nice to finally meet the both of you," the woman says absentmindedly, checking the watch on her wrist. "It seems we're running out of time and we're yet to get the information we desire."

3 men walk into the room behind her, armed and prepared for a fight if needed. One turns their back on the room to guard the door.

"You see, we need to run some quick tests on you, Mister Parker to see just what your DNA is capable of. Your friends are putting up quite the fight upstairs, but they've got hundreds of soldiers to fight through. It will take them a little while to even reach this floor. Enough time for me to run the required tests to perfect the formula," the lady explains, grabbing a few tools from her waistband. They're basic tools like a scalpel, a taser, a knife, and a gun. "Just in case you refuse to cooperate."

"Don't fucking touch him," Tony growls, tugging at his restraints.

"Unfortunately, Mister Stark, you don't seem to understand what these tests are. They require me to hurt him," the woman says with a maniacal laugh, sliding her fingers over the blade.

"I'll fucking kill you if you lay a hand on him," the billionaire snarls.

The lady laughs again, putting some of her equipment back, leaving just her knife in her hands.

Peter bites his lip hard, screwing his eyes shut as the lady carves into his arm.

"The first test is seeing just how fast he can heal. We don't quite have a lot of time for that, so we're just going to time how long it takes for these cuts to heal while we proceed to the next tests," the lady explains, talking as though her experiments are logical. As though they're sane.

She moves away and Tony snarls at the blood on his kid's arm. There's 6 cuts up the back of his arm. All of them deep and long, seeping blood to add to the red already smeared across the floor beneath his chair.

A button clicks on her watch before she looks back at the guards.

"How long till they arrive?" There's an obvious tenseness in her voice, pinched eyes showing her worry.

"They are still on the first floor. They seem to be trying to stay in the entrance, fight everyone and then make their way down," the first guard explains, reciting back what someone told him through their earpieces.

"Perfect. Gives us more time. Tell me when they are through with everyone," the lady says simply, turning back to Peter.

"That's your plan?" Tony demands, refusing to look at Peter right now. "You know they're going to get to us."

"Yes, of course, I do. I'm not an idiot," the lady says, lips pulled back in anger. It morphs into a smile instead. "Our bosses are watching and they will get the information needed. I was never meant to survive this. None of us were."

She points up to the corner of the room where a little red light is flashing. A camera.

The lady turns to Peter. "Test Number 2. We must hurry along. We have already tested your senses which were immaculate, I must say. Next, your metabolism."

She takes a box from the third guard that Tony hadn't even realized he was holding.

Inside, there's 6 needles all full of the same blue liquid.

"Each has Neuromuscular blocking agents. In simpler terms, they will temporarily paralyse you, Mister Parker. Unless, of course, your metabolism is strong enough to fend it off before it takes effect."

It feels like years spent in that chair, watching the blue liquid be pushed into Peter's veins. Peter struggles and he whines and he cries, and it makes Tony see red.

"I'm going to rip your fucking throat out," Tony snarls when the 6th needle is pushed into Peter's neck.

"Good luck trying, Mister Stark. It seems you're a little tied up at the moment," the lady says with a fake sadness. Pouting down at Tony's wrist restraints. "Let me know when you're hands are free."

She turns back to Peter who's still trembling and crying silently.

"Leave me alone. Please. Stop hurting me," Peter whimpers, bottom lip quivering.

"We have no more of the drug, unfortunately. And it seems it still hasn't taken hold despite being 6 times as much as the human amount," the lady says, humming as she pokes at Peter's arm. Her fingers come away bloody from the cuts. "Cuts are healing fast."

"They've moved to the second floor and are sweeping through the rooms. They'll be here in approximately 6 minutes at this rate," a guard announces.

"Alright. Onto the last of the experiments," the lady says, almost gleefully.

"Fuck you," Tony spits, tugging harder at the metal strapping his arms to the chair.

"That's nice, Mister Stark. Lastly, we need to take some samples. Nothing painful unless you try to struggle, Mister Parker," the lady continues, taking one of the empty syringes from earlier out of the box on the floor.

Peter struggles to get away from it, quiet whines and sobs leaving the back of his throat, legs trying to kick to get himself away but restraints making him unable to.

Tony's seeing red, anger swelling in his chest, imagining all the different ways he's going to murder the lady in front of him.

The needle is pushed into Peter's neck, blood filling the syringe.

“2 minutes and counting, ma’am,” the guard announces.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be on my way then,” the lady says, pulling the needle from Peter’s neck and tucking it into her waistband. “Ta ta.”

Tony throws insults and yells profanities as the lady disappears behind a door. He continues yelling even as Nat and Steve knocks the guards stationed at the door out and race into the room.

He finally shuts up when Nat appears in front of him.

“What the fuck is going on?” she demands.

“Get me out of these. I’ve gotta catch her. I’m going to fucking murder her,” Tony snarls, tugging at his restraints.

“I got keys,” Steve says from his position crouched over the third guard.

As soon as the restraints are off Tony’s wrists and ankles, he races off after the woman. He doesn’t care that he doesn’t even have the iron man suit on him. He’ll kill her with his bare hands if he has to.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, Tony!” Nat calls after him. “Meet us at the quinjet ASAP.”

Tony catches up to the lady on the stairwell, ignoring Nat’s words. He wouldn’t regret killing her. She hurt his kid. That couldn’t be left without consequences.

Nobody’s allowed to touch his kid.

Tony grabs the lady’s arm, spinning her around and shoving her up against the wall. He rips everything out of her waistband, the syringe of Peter’s blood shattering on impact.

“Guess you failed,” Tony snarls.

“If I failed, then why are you so angry?” The lady asks as though genuinely confused.

“You hurt my kid! That’s why I’m angry! You hurt an innocent kid!” Tony yells, wrapping a hand around her throat and shoving her up harder against the cement wall.

“Normally you’d be sarcastic and snarky. Now you are angry. You care for the kid?” The woman asks like its really hard to tell.

“You don’t get to talk like you all of a sudden care. You didn’t care when you were cutting him open or stealing his blood or prodding at him like he was some experiment. He’s a fucking kid. He’s my kid. Nobody touches my kid,” Tony growls protectively, hand cutting off the woman’s airways.

But despite his anger, he would never actually kill her. He’ll let her rot away in prison with the rest of them.

He lets her body drop to the floor unconscious, desperate to see his kid again.

*

As soon as Tony boards the plane, they’re taking off. Peter’s passed out on the hospital bed, blood everywhere. Bruce works over him diligently. He gets the metal out of Peter’s leg, stitching the wound closed, wraps Peter’s arm in white bandages, and puts butterfly bandages over Peter’s neck where all the injections had gone.

Peter wakes up not long later, eyes wide and glassy.

“Mis’r S’ark?” Peter slurs through his exhaustion from the long mission.

The protective feelings hadn’t faded from Tony. He was still angry that someone hurt his kid. How dare someone hurt his kid?

But looking at Peter, so small in the hospital bed, the anger turns into soft pride.

“You did so well. You were so strong in there. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Tony murmurs, taking Peter’s hand. “She’s never going to hurt you ever again.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Peter mumbles, eyes lazily scanning Tony’s face. “Ned’s gonna love these stories. I’ve never gotten experimented on before.”

“Spare him the gory details, yeah?” Tony says, lifting the kid’s limp fingers up to his lips.

“Always do. Thanks for caring,” Peter murmurs, head lolling to the side.

“Always, kiddo. Always.”

____

Whoops this was longer than originally planned

This looks like gross formatting sorry if it looks weird 

For the suggestion of writing angry protective tony. Sorta not as good as I sorta hoped it would be whoops

Happy New Years !!

Lyss


	23. 23-Amnesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Peter's Tony's bio son}  
> {Harley and Peter are brothers. This is a very brother-centric chapter}   
> {Peter is Spider-Man}

"Bye, Dad! I'm going on patrol!" Peter shouted down the stairs to where Tony was no doubt slaving over something in the lab.

"Be safe! Call me if you need anything!" Tony calls back.

Peter smiles brightly and jogs off to his bedroom.

He stops at Harley's door on the way.

"Hey, I'm heading out for patrol. Probably won't be back till late. Make sure you get Dad to bed if you can," Peter says, smiling at his brother. They're both 15, both in the same grade at Midtown High.

They're technically half siblings, but neither of them count it. Both of them being results of Tony's playboy years. The brothers were born only months apart, but met years later.

Harley was given to Tony only months after he was born and Tony was pretty much forced into a position to take care of the baby.

Peter on the other hand was kept by his mom for 4 years before she died and he was passed on to Tony.

Harley gets jealous sometimes. Peter's Spider-Man and his grades are higher and sometimes it feels like Peter is the favorite. But Harley has other qualities that make him just as important. He has self-preservation skills, which is important in the Stark family. And Harley was incredibly brave too. Something Peter hadn't quite learned.

Sure, Spider-Man was brave, but Peter was not. Harley's been standing up to Flash, Peter's bully, since middle school.

"Yeah, sounds good. Make sure you eat something at Delmar's while you're out. Do you have money?" Harley replies, already grabbing his wallet from the side table.

Harley and Peter were really close. They fought sometimes, like brothers were meant to, but having a father who got into so many near death experiences wasn't easy for them. It made them draw closer because they were worried they'd be sent away or torn apart to live with their mother's family. 

"Thanks, Yeah. I almost forgot," Peter says, taking the $20 from his younger brother. "I'll pay you back."

"It's cool. You've gotten me lunch food more times than I can count, man. Dont worry about it," Harley replies, turning his attention back to his homework.

"Call me if you need any help with your Spanish," Peter says before walking across the hall to his room. 

*

Patrol was going fine. A little bit slower than usual, but who wants to do crime on a Tuesday night anyways.

Peter was on his way back to the tower. It's 11:50 and his curfew is midnight on school nights.

He flicks his wrist towards a building, the web catches and his body goes flying forwards with the momentum. It's always so exhilarating to go swinging for him. It'll never get old.

His Spidey sense starts tingling and he lets out a heavy sigh, telling Karen to send a text to his dad to let him know he'll be a little bit late while he takes care of one more thing.

At first it seems like a normal mugger situation, until Peter realizes that nobody was being mugged in the first place. It was fake.

And the fight begins.

Peter's having trouble webbing the guys. It seems like something in his web formula is contradicted by their armor and nothing is sticking. So he's forced to rely on his muscles and fighting.

And since he's 6 against 1 and cornered in an alley, it's not the easiest thing. Even with the spider bite on his side.

And soon he's being pinned up against the wall, hands holding him in place pretty much everywhere. His web shooters are pulled off and his arms and legs are webbed to the wall, off the ground.

"Please. Let's just talk this out," Peter says, trying to act nonchalant.

"Yeah, right, kid. You're gonna go night-night now, Kay?" One of the men says, grabbing Peter by the chin.

His head is slammed against the brick wall behind him over and over and over again. Blood. Blood in his mouth, in his nose, in his hair. He can't breathe. And then everything goes dark.

*

"Dad! I think he's waking up!" Harley exclaims, tightening his grip on his brother's limp hand.

Tony had gone after Peter 15 minutes after he got the text from Karen. He found Peter webbed to an alleyway wall, webshooters crushed beneath his feet. He had panicked when he took off his kid's mask to see his head covered in blood. But Bruce said Peter was going to be okay except for some short term effects.

Peter blinks his doe eyes open, wincing at the bright lights in the white room.

"Hey, kiddo. How're you feeling?" Tony asks, leaning over the dazed boy. 

Peter lifts his head a little in response, groaning at the shooting pain. 

His eyes widen as he looks over at Tony and then to Harley. He rips his hand from Harley's hand, pushing himself backwards on the bed.

"Where am I? What's going on?" Peter demands, voice strong despite the pounding in his head.

"You're in the Medwing. You've been here like a thousand time, Underoos. I'd expect you to remember it by now," Tony teases, but Harley knows there's something more wrong than that.

"What do you remember?" Harley asks anxiously, mouth dropped open a little bit accidentally.

Peter's eyes widen more and his fingers clench into fists. "Nothing! I don't- There's nothing there. I can't remember anything."

"What?" Tony says, turning his head upwards. "Fri, tell Bruce to get back here. ASAP."

"Yes, sir."

Peter flinches at the disembodied voice, panic etched across his features. 

Harley smiles reassuringly. He's taken some extra curricular courses on health and Red Cross courses just in case. They spent a little bit on what to do if your patient is scared or disoriented. Harley figures amnesia falls into that category. 

"Hey, listen. I can help you through this. It's no worries. You're safe here," Harley explains, taking a seat in the chair beside Peter's bed and acting nonchalant. 

"Who are you?" Peter asks, already looking more relaxed. He leans forwards a little bit, almost like he wants to be farther away from Tony.

"Go get something to eat. I'll catch him up," Harley says to his dad, trying to convey the force behind his suggestion.

"Tell Friday to get me if you need anything," Tony says, disappearing out the door without another word.

"Who are you?" Peter asks again, hands clenched in his bed sheets.

"I'm Harley. Harley Stark. You're Peter. Peter Stark. We're brothers," Harley explains, nodding and running his hand through his light brown hair.

"Brothers?" Peter echoes, shoulders relaxing a little more. "Who was he?"

"Our dad. Tony Stark."

"Oh... What about our mom?" Peter asks slowly, eyebrows furrowing. 

"We have different moms. Mine couldn't take care of me. She was too young. Your mom died when you were 4," Harley explains gently. He's worried Peter might have a bad reaction to the news, but Peter barely reacts to it.

"I can feel that there's stuff missing. Like I put a stack of papers in a drawer and the next time I looked, they're all gone. I know they're gone, I just don't know how to get it back," Peter explains, eyes boring into Harley like he expects the other to just fix it.

"I know. You got hurt pretty badly. Bruce, your doctor, said that you'd have some symptoms from the head injury, we just didn't know what. Luckily, he said they'd be short-term effects. So you should get them back sooner or later," Harley explains, nerves bundling up inside his stomach. He doesn't want to bombard Peter with more information than he can handle and get overwhelmed. He doesn't want Peter to feel hopeless that he can't remember anything.

"They'll come back?" Peter repeats, a hope sparking in his eyes. Harley's glad his brother isn't missing that ceaseless optimism.

"Yeah. You'll be fine. You've just gotta hold on until then," the younger says, offering a smile. 

Peter returns it, smaller and holding more nerves, but it's something. 

"Can you tell me a story? About me?" Peter asks shyly, a blush touching his cheeks.

Harley's smile widens, already knowing the exact story he'll tell. 

"Get ready for this one! It's a good one...

_"I can't do this, Harley," Peter sighs, wide eyes staring at the building across the street. Tony had just drove away after dropping the two kids off._

_"Yes, you can. It's not that hard. You just gotta take that first step and everything else will come naturally," Harley responds, patting his brother's shoulder gently._

_"I'm going to fuck this up. I'm going to ruin everything," Peter whines in exaggeration, body tensing up._

_"Hey, no you're not. I just feel bad. You're older than me and I've been in more relationships than you," Harley teases, laughing as Peter glares at him._

_"One, you're only 3 months younger. Two, you've only been in one relationship," Peter argues._

_"Well one's still more than none, Petey. C'mon. I'll drag you if I have to," Harley threatens, grabbing the sleeve of Peter's jacket and beginning to drag the boy across the street. "Look! They're waiting for us."_

_"Fine, fine, fine. I can do this. I can do this," Peter mumbles, pushing Harley's hand off his arm and straightening his jacket again._

_Harley doesn't check to see if his brother is following as the two people stand at the table._

_"Tyler!" Harley exclaims, meeting the taller boy as he stands. "It's so good to see you again. Peter's being a wimp."_

_Tyler grins and kisses Harley, taking his hand gently before the two turn to see how Peter's doing._

_MJ's smiling, taking Peter's hand in hers. "Nice of you to finally show up," she teases._

_Peter blushes heavily at that, pink sneaking up his neck and blooming on his cheekbones. "Sorry. Harley took ages to get dressed. Kept fretting over everything."_

_Harley's mouth falls into a gape, glaring at his brother. "Says you! We would've been here on time if you had just crossed the damn street!"_

_"Hello. May I get you a table?" the hostess asks, smiling at the teenagers antics._

_"Yes please. Table for 4 under the name Keener," Harley says, sending a glare over his shoulder at his brother. Parker is Peter's fake last name and Keener is Harley's. Just because it's not really out yet that Tony has two sons._

_The group follows the woman to a booth near the back of the restaurant. Near the kitchen._

_Peter almost moans. "It smells so good. Thanks for suggesting this place."_

_MJ grins. "No problem. This is where my parents went on their first date."_

_"Guess that makes it more special for you two than for us," Tyler mumbles, slumping against Harley._

_"Hey! Our first date wasn't that bad," Harley whines, pushing Tyler's arm without result._

_Tyler rolls his eyes. "We went to a shitty restaurant, ate shitty food, made out in the bathroom and then left without paying. And then on the way home you freaked out, made me drive you all the way back, so you could give them the money."_

_Harley pouts, slumping down a little bit. "So? I tried my best."_

_Tyler grins, kissing his boyfriend's temple. The two had been dating for 4 months. All smooth sailing and relentless teasing and not many serious moments between the two._

_This is Peter's first ever date with his first ever girlfriend. They had been kissing and holding hands and cuddling and shit for the past 2 months before Peter asked her to be his girlfriend. He's finally gotten the courage to take her on a date. Not enough courage to go by himself, so Harley offered to go on a double date with him._

_The rest of the night was filled with joking and teasing and Peter finally broke out of his shell and became the guy all of them knew was buried under his anxiety and worry._

_Peter wouldn't stop rambling about it for 3 weeks afterwards._

  
"You seem like a good brother," Peter mumbles after a few moments of silence. 

"Yeah, well we've been through quite a bit of shit together so..." Harley mumbles, leaning his elbows on the bed beside Peter.

"Like what?" Peter asks, tilting his head in curiosity.

"You sure you're ready to hear some of the lesser points in our life? Alright...

_Ten-year-old Harley tucked himself tighter against Peter's side._

_"Is he going to die?" Harley asks, hating himself for acting so weak, so vulnerable when Tony's out there._

_Peter forces a smile onto his face. "No. He's Iron Man, Lee. He's not going to die."_

_The older brushes back Harley's curls, kissing his forehead like he's seen Dad do a thousand times._

_Harley relaxes against Peter, letting Peter's warmth take over him._

_The boys' eyes focus on the television screen. It's from someone's shitty phone camera, but it's enough to show the destruction going on throughout the city. The two of them are in a safe house in Boston where they'll be safe from the aliens attacking._

_Iron Man is nowhere to be seen, but Steve, Thor and the Hulk all are fighting in a circle in the heart of where the aliens are._

_A voice comes out through the panic and explosions. "Holy shit! Iron Man is grabbing the nuke. He's flying back this way!"_

_"What?" Harley gasps, fingers curling into Peter's shirt. There's panic running through Peter, but he knows he'll have to become a father to Harley and he's willing to do it, even now. He runs his fingers through Harley's curls to keep him calm, hugging the boy to his side._

_The camera spins around and zooms in on a blob of red and gold flying through the air, armored hands holding the missile above his body._

_"No!" Harley cries, tears filling in his eyes. There's a lump in Peter's throat, but he refuses to cry. Tony swore he'd come back, and he will._

_Peter's phone on the coffee table rings suddenly, making both boys flinch._

_Harley grabs it, answering it without even checking to see who it is. He turns it on speakerphone, but holds it protectively._

_"Hey, boys. Dad's not going to be coming home tonight, okay?" Dad says, voice forced into something nonchalant._

_"Dad!" Harley sobs, clutching the phone tighter to him. The tears are falling faster down his cheeks, eyes wildly focusing on Peter's broken expression._

_"I know, kiddo. I know. I've gotta do this, though. I have to. Pepper's going to come get you in just a few days, okay? I love you both," Dad says._

_"No!" Harley cries in desperation. "No! You promised! You're coming back!"_

_"Kid, Harley, sweetheart. I know you don't understand, but Peter's right there with you and we just have to see which ways the table turns, okay? You've gotta be strong for me," Dad murmurs, sounding close to tears as well._

_"No!" Harley sobs, on the verge of screaming, but his voice breaks. "No!"_

_Peter takes the phone from his younger brother, turning off speakerphone and pushing it up to his ear._

_"Dad?" Peter chokes out through his tears. "You're off speaker. Just me. What's going on?"_

_"I need you to take care of Harley, okay? Just until Pepper gets there. I love you. So much. I'm sorry."_

_"I can't, Dad. I can't do this. You can't do this. Please. You've gotta come home," Peter begs quietly, tugging his little brother back into his chest. Harley buries his face into Peter's chest, sobbing into the fabric._

_"I'll try my best, kiddo. I love you. I've gotta go."_

_"I love you too, Dad. We both do," Peter responds. He listens to the click of the phone call ending. Listens to the few seconds of silence. Listens to the beeping of the loss of connection, before he finally puts the phone down again. "We're going to be okay, Lee. It'll all be okay."_

  
"He was okay, though?" Peter asks, childlike big eyes focused so closely to Harley's every moment.

"Course he was. He always is. He called us again like 4 hours later and explained that he was okay and would be getting to us in just a few hours. All three of us had nightmares and fears and a lot to get through for the next like 3 years, but we're all better now," Harley explains, looking tired all of a sudden.

"Except I can't remember anything," Peter asks.

Tony walks back into the room, looking a lot more rested than before. "Bruce called and said he's not surprised about the amnesia, but with some good rest and maybe some help like Harley's been giving you, you'll be back to normal in no time."

"Told him the Missile Story. And the doubt date one," Harley explains, leaning heavier on his elbows.

"You look exhausted, kid. How long have you been up?" Tony demands, crossing his arms.

"I just... I haven't been sleeping well lately," Harley admits.

"Why not?" Peter asks, feeling the brotherly protection bloom naturally in his chest.

Harley runs his fingers nervously through his hair. "Because of this. I used to always be worried that Dad wouldn't make it home safely, but now I always worry that you won't make it home safe. I stay up till late to make sure you're home safe. Scares me that I'm going to lose one of you."

Peter's heart clenches. "I'm okay, though. I feel fine, just some amnesia that should be gone soon."

"I know. We'll talk more after you're feeling better," Harley sighs. 

"C'mere," Peter says, hoisting himself into a sitting position and opening his arms. All the movements are coming naturally, the instincts coming naturally.

Harley smiles lightly and hops onto the bed beside his brother, curling into the hug tiredly. 

"Okay. You boys stay here. I'll get us some ice cream and we'll have a movie night. Hopefully by morning, Peter will be feeling better," Tony says, leaving the room again.

"I feel like I don't say it enough. I do love you, Peter. You're a great brother and you're nicer to me than I deserve. You were ready to take care of me in a heartbeat. You were ready to become the caretaker the moment you knew Dad was in danger. You were ready to push away your emotions just to make sure I was okay. I really appreciate you and everything you've done to me," Harley says.

Peter simply tightens his arms around Harley and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

  
Peter falls asleep that night, curled up between Harley and Tony. A mushy pile of happiness. Ice cream spoons and bowls placed haphazardly on the nightstand, heaps of blankets tossed over their bodies. A small, messed up family, but a family nonetheless. 

And when Peter wakes up, his head is practically bursting at the seams with memories. 


	24. 24-Peter Parker's Guilt Complex

{I originally saw this as a SPN Headcanon but thought it was a good idea to turn into an irondad oneshot :) }  
  
  


Tony's day started just as any other would. Rolling out of bed at noon, chugging some black coffee, answering some emails, having some toast for 'breakfast', heading down to the lab to slave over something minuscule for way too long and blasting some classic rock to keep his mind from wandering.

It's not a Lab Night, Pepper and Rhodey are out of the country for business stuff, and Tony's basically caught up in his work- for SI and for superhero.

So he decides to do some cleaning instead. Sure, there are robots to do it for him, and it's not even that messy anyways, but there's laundry to do and dishes to clean from him piling them up in the sink while Pepper's not here to keep an eye on him. There's dust on some of the less used pieces of furniture in the penthouse and little knickknacks lying around.

Normally when Peter would come by, he would've insisted on doing more than just Lab stuff and clean up around the kitchen and living room, but he had to skip their last Lab Night because of homework. So it's a little messier than usual.

Tony's never minded the mess, but Pepper and Peter do. A lot. They hate it being messy. Pepper's logic is a messy house is a messy mind. And Pepper wants them to have clearer minds. Peter's logic is more flawed than Pepper's. He thinks that people will judge them if the house is messy. He thinks that things have a place for a purpose, they should be in their place. He also says he likes to do the chores, so Tony lets him. Sometimes, he'll even forget to do the dishes just because it makes Peter happy to be doing something in return. It seems to make his mind at ease for always being around the tower.

Tony figures it might follow Pepper's logic because, let's face it, Tony's mind is normally pretty messy. Maybe it's because his house is always messy.

So he cleans up, starting in the living room and working his way to the kitchen. Including dusting, sweeping, tidying, and cleaning. He even slaves on his knees over some stains on the hardwood. He's pretty sure they're bloodstains from the last time Peter came flying through his window with what should have been a lethal injury, but barely even fazes Peter.

Around six or seven pm, Tony decides he'll start a load of laundry and then have dinner. He decides he's doing all of this to make his family proud. Pepper, Peter, and Rhodey are constantly badgering him to be caring of himself. Showering, eating, drinking water, sleeping, wearing clean clothes, not picking them up off the floor, leaving the house. He's getting better at it, for the sole reason that he doesn't want to let them down.

He gathers all the jeans and t-shirts that had been discarded across his floor over the past week and a half, having found his socks lying pretty much everywhere throughout the penthouse already. He tosses the bundle of clothing into the washing machine, deciding it isn't full enough, heads down the hall to Peter's room. From how often he stays at the tower, he's probably got a collection of dirty clothes lying around.

And he does. When Tony pushes the door open, there's a basket full of dirty clothing. Tony winces when he picks it up and realizes most of them are bloodstained from patrol injuries. That might be difficult to wash out.

He's about to leave the room when he sees a notebook on Peter's desk. Peter hates leaving things out in his room, everything has spots and drawers. But he stayed the night last week and left in a rush to get to school on time.

Maybe it's the oddity of having a blue notebook on his desk. Maybe it's purely curiosity. Maybe it's the black swirling doodles across the front cover and Peter's name scratched big in the black ink. Maybe it's what looks like water stains on the corners that catches Tony's attention.

Whatever it is, the notebook is tucked under Tony's arm for future reading. He knows it's not fair. He knows he shouldn't be. He knows it's a total breach of privacy. But Tony's worried. He knows Peter has a lot of internalized pain and grief, and if Peter's thinking some particularly bad thoughts, that's something Tony needs to know.

He puts all Peter's clothing in the wash and then heads to the dining room to see what's in the notebook.

Tony hopes that it's just Science notes or something, but he knows this isn't the type of notebook Peter uses for school notes.

The first page is enough to send stabbing pains through Tony's chest.

**_Peter Parker's Guilt Complex_** is scratched into the page, as though the words were written over and over and over again with a little too much force and a shaky hand. There's little tears in some parts of the words where he pressed too hard with the same black pen.

Tony flips to the next page.

Titled in the same scratchy bold:

**_Everyone I've Let Down_ **

And it's a list that seems to continue for ages. Some names are bolder than others. There are tears and rips in the corners of the pages. Little black swirling doodles up the margins.

_Richard Parker_

_Mary Parker_

**_Ben Parker_ **

**_May Parker_ **

_Ned Leeds_

_Michelle Jones_

_Flash Thompson_

And it continues down the whole page and then the next page. Tony freezes when he sees the name he was so desperate not the see.

_Tony Stark_

_Tony Stark_

_Tony Stark_

_Tony Stark_

_Tony Stark_

_Tony Stark_

_Tony Stark_

It continues down the rest of the second page and fills up half the next one too before it's blank. The last one looks recent. Scribbled in a shaky hand

He flips the page because he can't stand staring at his own name over and over again like it was. But this is worse.

**_Reasons Why I'm a Failure_ **

Peter's full name is jotted in the left corner and the date is in the right. 03/16/13

_Uncle Ben died because of me. There's so many things that could've come before this one in this journal, but this is where it starts. Uncle Ben. He died because I didn't save him. It was my fault. I haven't told Aunt May yet. She's devastated. Her pain is my fault. She's another person I've let down after my parents and Ben. I shouldn't have run away. I shouldn't have let the robber shoot. I shouldn't have froze. I should've saved him and now I have to live with the consequences. May hasn't left her room since the funeral 3 days ago. I can barely look at her without feeling nauseous with guilt. This is my fault. This is all my fault._

Tony feels nauseous too. He hates that Peter's Guilt Complex as he calls it, started 5 years ago. That Peter's probably been feeling guilty all the time for 5 whole years.

Tony doesn't want to read the one thing he knows will be there as he flips through the pages to find the right date, but he has to.

_05/15/17_

_Tony took my suit. I almost killed a whole ferry full of people. It was my fault. I shouldn't keep pretending I'm some hero. I'm just stupid fucking Peter Parker who doesn't know when to stop. I'm not Iron Man, I'm not even Spider-Man anymore. I'm just a kid with a fluke and a guilt complex. I shouldn't have gotten onto that ferry. Or maybe I just should've been more careful. Then maybe I wouldn't have fucked up as badly as I did. I don't know why Tony still bothers. I don't know why he even tried to take me in. He probably just feels bad for me and doesn't want me to kill more people than I already have. I already killed Uncle Ben. I can't believe I was this stupid to think I could be more than stupid, pathetic, penis parker like Flash says._

Tony flips to the last page with writing on it to see just what Peter could've been feeling guilty about that night he was at the tower.

_02/21/18_

_I'm at the tower. This isn't the same as the others. This isn't something that happened to me. It's just me being a failure like always. I had another panic attack. It was stupid. I don't know why this is still happening to me. Ned says PTSD, but that night wasn't even that bad. Tony's been through hell, it makes sense that he has PTSD, but I just had one night that went worse. I didn't even go to the hospital. I had a panic attack and hid in a bathroom for like 2 hours and cried and threw up. I thought about telling Tony, but I don't want him to think I'm being stupid or weak. I had a weird flashback type thing the other day at school because I got pushed into my locker. I had a flashback and then a panic attack and then I passed out. When Ned finally got me out, I said i was fine. I've been lying to my best friend. It seems to be getting worse even though it's been like a year since then. I think I've been avoiding it and now it's hitting me full force. I don't know. I'm just a fucking failure._

Tony slams the notebook shut, heart thundering in his chest as he fumbles for his cellphone. Why didn't he realize sooner? Why hadn't he seen the signs?

He calls Peter Parker, ignoring the fact that Peter's probably trying to do his homework or eat dinner with May. He just crosses his fingers, and his wishes are answered when Peter picks up on the third ring.

"Mister Stark? May looks kinda angry I answered my- Are you okay? I can hear your heart through the phone. You sound like you're going to have a panic attack," Peter says. A door shuts on the other end.

"I need to talk to you. In person. ASAP," Tony says, keeping it short. Simple.

"Um, right, okay. I know I missed Lab Night this week, but I didn't think you were this dependent," Peter says, a touch of laughter on his voice.

"What time works for you?" Tony says, ignoring Peter's teasing.

"Um, Aunt May will kill me, but I don't have a lot of homework left. I could swing by and-"

"I'll come get you. Be there in 5. You can stay the night," Tony says quickly, hanging up without another word.

*

When Tony pulls up, Peter slides into passenger, already looking concerned.

"Your heart's still beating fast, Mister Stark," Peter starts, eyes wide as he buckles himself in.

"No, were not worrying about that right now," Tony says, brushing it off hurriedly as he starts off towards the tower again.

"What are we worrying about?" Peter asks, frowning deeply.

Tony doesn't bother responding, just focusing his full attention on driving. He feels bad about making Peter anxious, it's obvious in his bouncing knee and darting eyes, but he doesn't want to say anything until they're in a safe place. He wants Peter to be able to storm off angrily if he needs it. He wants Peter to be able to nap after their conversation is done. He wants Peter to be able to move freely throughout the conversation depending on his emotions. A car would be a terrible place for a conversation like this.

When they get up to the penthouse. Peter freezes right in the doorway to the dining room. Tony stops a few feet ahead, following Peter's eyes.

The notebook is left stranded on the dining room.

"Why were you looking through my stuff?" Peter asks. His voice is high and shaking, his expression is one of heartbreak.

"I went to do your laundry..." Tony mumbles, heart beating even louder.

"So you just went 'hm this isn't clothing but might as well go looking through this too.' You weren't supposed to see any of that!" Peter says, throwing anger to try to make his anxiety feel better.

"I'm sorry. I'm glad I saw it though. That's why I wanted to talk to you," Tony explains, flicking a hand towards the notebook and than back to Peter.

Peter looks to be on the verge of tears, body trembling. "You weren't- you weren't supposed to find out."

"Find out what?"

"Everything I've done." The words come out choked and Peter buries his head in his arm as he cracks, breaking down as he cries into his forearms.

"You haven't done anything! That's why I wanted to talk to you. None of it was on you. I didn't read a lot of it, but you haven't let anybody down. You aren't a failure. None of that was on you," Tony says, walking the few steps back to Peter.

"I killed Uncle Ben!" Peter sobs, almost collapsing when his legs threaten to fall out from under him.

"No. No, you didn't. You didn't do anything. It wasn't your fault. I know the specifics of it, but you are not at fault for that, and you certainly shouldn't be feeling guilty so many years later. This isn't on you," Tony says, prepared to argue to the end of time to make Peter believe it.

Peter lets out a whine of agony before collapsing to his knees, cries engulfing him.

"I'm sorry," he cries.

"No, don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for," Tony says, kneeling down in front of his kid.

He takes Peter's wrists gently and pulls them away from Peter's face. Luckily, Peter's breathing is still coming out like it should and his eyes are focused despite the tears. Not a panic attack.

"I-I just- i just started writing everything. Made it feel less heavy on the inside. I'd read it whenever i felt too good. Makes me feel less good. Makes me feel bad. I- I sometimes feel- feel like I don't deserve to be happy after- after everything I've done," Peter says, face crinkling up as his body is wracked with another loud sob followed by sniffling and a hiccup.

"You deserve all the happiness in the world, Pete. You deserve it all. None of it was your fault, okay? I promise. I swear. I'm sorry you've going through all of this alone. I'm going to be there for you from now on," Tony swears. "Can I hug you?"

Once he gets a shaky nod, he wraps his arms tightly around Peter, drawing the kid into his chest.

It's not easy, to say the least. The kid's young and so impressionable. Stuff like this is hard to get rid of.

But after months of therapy, months of extra Lab Nights specifically for emotions, months of doing the dishes together because a messy house is a messy mind, months of talking it through, months of crying and finding ways to be happy despite the heaviness, months of expelling the guilt from his mind, months and months of months of work put towards making Peter as happy as can be, Peter burns his journal.

____  
I don't even know if these count as Whump entirely. The ending kinda sucks man but like I don't like writing that the happy ending comes immediately. It takes time and oneshots dont really have time for time.

Lyss


	25. 25-Drunk Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {I got this idea from the movie Gifted}
> 
> {May died like a year ago and Tony adopted Peter.}

Tony was working late on a new weapon for Nat to use, when his phone rings.

"Hello?" Tony starts. There's only a few people who has his number, none of which should be calling him at this hour.

"Mis'er S'ark?" Peter slurs. There's a crash on the other end as Peter seems to run into something. There's loud music pounding and screaming coming from wherever Peter is.

"Kid? Where the hell are you?" Tony demands, already calling for a suit to be on standby if needed.

"Flash invited me!" Peter says, sounding excited for whatever reason. There's another crash and some more yelling, this time sounding angrier than before. Followed closely by Peter apologizing profusely. "Needa find Ned!"

"Are you drunk?!" Tony exclaims angrily. Of course his kid went and got drunk. He said he was spending the night at Ned's, not going to a party.

"No!" Peter giggles. "Been drinking pop!"

"You sound drunk, Peter. You better not be drunk. Get Ned on the line for me." Out of everyone, Tony figured Peter would be the one to not get drunk. He's seen firsthand what drinking does to a person. He knows drinking's unsafe. 

"Neddie!" Peter squeals, crashing into something again. "Dad wants to talk to you!"

"Shit, Peter! Are you drunk?" Ned asks over the loud music in the background. "Shit! I thought you said you were just drinking pop?"

Peter laughs again in response and there's shuffling on the other end, before Ned's voice comes out clearer, now holding the phone.

"Peter dragged us here. Said we should be having fun not just spending the night in my room playing video games. He disappeared a few hours ago. I thought he was with MJ, MJ thought he was with me... We met up like half an hour ago and realized nobody was keeping an eye on him. I'm so sorry. I thought he'd be more responsible than this," Ned explains, sounding absolutely devastated. The phone is pulled away from his ear as he shouts something at Peter. "Put that down! You're not drinking that! Sit!"

Tony rolls his eyes, flexing his arms to release some of the tension that's built up in his shoulders. "Where are you? I'll come pick him up."

"We're at Flash's house. This was such a dumb idea... I'll try to get him out to the front yard for you. I'll keep an eye on him," Ned says, sounding absolutely exhausted.

"You're a good kid. I'll deal with him. Thanks," Tony reassures, knowing if Ned's anything like Peter, he'll be blaming himself for Peter being an idiot. 

"Okay. Bye," Ned mumbles, ending the call.

Tony lets the Iron Man suit go back to it's position, not wanting to have to be cleaning Peter's inevitable throw up off the suit, and figure taking a car is a smarter idea. 

  
*

When he arrives at Flash's house 15 minutes later, Peter looks worse than he thought. He's throwing up in the lawn, back trembling as he heaves. There's a water bottle near his knees and Ned's lying in the grass beside him. Ned stands when Tony gets out of the car.

"Do you know how much he's been drinking?" Tony asks. There's no way he wants to deal with a hospital trip this late to get Peter's stomach pumped.

"I don't know. We just got out here. Peter kept asking for more. I don't know what's wrong with him. He was doing it on purpose... It wasn't like his drink was spiked or something," Ned explains, shaking his head and sending a concerned look to his coughing best friend.

"At least he's sober enough to hold himself up and not choke on his own vomit," Tony says, rolling his eyes. He's more angry than concerned. Peter knows about Tony's history with drinking, and yet he still goes and gets drunk at a party.

"I guess," Ned mumbles, rubbing his eyes. "My mom's on her way. She's pissed we came here in the first place. She would've killed me if I started drinking too. I'm just worried Peter won't be allowed over because of this."

"He's going to be grounded for life anyways," Tony says, rolling his eyes again. "I'll get him home safe. Thanks for watching over him."

"Yeah... Oh, um, he told me not to tell you, but I think you should know... Peter wasn't just drinking because others were drinking. He kept saying he wanted to forget. He was drinking to forget," Ned says, wincing when Peter heaves some more from his spot in the grass. 

"Okay. Thanks," Tony says, trying to keep his anger under control. He grabs Peter from under the arms, hauling Peter to his feet. "Time to go home, kid. You done throwing up?"

Peter nods absentmindedly rubbing his mouth with his sleeve, leaning heavily onto Tony. 

*

Luckily, Peter didn't throw up in Tony's car, but he did start to cry, curling his body up in passenger seat.

He managed to walk all the way into the tower without help, stumbling and running into things, but otherwise able to walk okay. When they make it up to their living room, Tony finally releases his anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?! Getting wasted like this? This was such a dumbass move!" Tony shouts, throwing his arms up in anger.

Peter's bottom lip wobbles as his eyes fill with tears, but he glares at Tony. "You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't understand drinking? Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" Tony demands. 

"You wouldn't understand why! You don't understand! Just fuck off!" Peter shouts, slurring through his words.

Tony doesn't want to have this conversation while Peter's still drunk, but he knows Peter's still going to remember this, so they might as well.

"You're not allowed to talk to me like that! You're not allowed to curse at me!" Tony scolds, hating his yelling and his anger. He feels like his dad when he acts like this, but Peter needs to hear it and right now, anger is the only thing that's going to get through to him.

"Fuck you!" Peter shouts back, hands trembling as he clenches them on the edge of the table. "Fuck you! You can't pretend to know what this is like!"

"What what is like? What made you think that drinking is the right answer?" Tony yells, gesturing wildly to try to force his point across.

"I wanted to forget!" Peter shouts, tears flooding over. "I wanted to forget! I can't sleep! And I'm always sad or angry or guilty or something and I just wanted to forget!" 

"Why, Peter? Why aren't you sleeping? What were you trying to forget?" Tony says, voice softer now. He can't help it, the kid makes him soft.

"Everything!" the teenager shouts. He's really crying now, tears and snot and trembling. "Everything! I don't want to be alive anymore! I can't! I can't keep doing this! I don't want to!"

"You don't- You don't want to be alive?" Tony repeats, watching the kid's every movement.

"It should've been me," Peter sobs, body threatening to give out from under him. He sits at the dining room table, fingers tugging at his wild curls. "It should've been me. I want to die. I want to die. I can't do this anymore. I needed to forget."

"What should've been you, Pete?" Tony asks, slowly sitting in the chair beside Peter. 

"I should've been the one in passenger. I should've been hit. I should've died. It should've been me. May didn't deserve that," Peter cries, looking up at Tony with broken, bloodshot eyes. "It should've been me."

Something cracks in Tony. "Kid..."

Tony reaches forwards and grabs Peter by the back of the neck, pulling Peter's body into his. It's awkward in the chairs, but neither is strong enough to hold themselves up, and Peter's wails wrack through his body and Tony's heart is broken holding his kid together. He had no idea it had gotten this bad.

Sure, he knew that Peter wasn't going to be okay. He'd lost a lot throughout his life and he was dealing with so much grief. But Tony had no idea he was struggling with survivor's guilt too. 

  
Tony finally carries Peter to bed once his crying ceases, tucking the kid into a bunch of blankets and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. He has an idea, but he's got no idea whether it'll make it better or worse. It's worth a shot.

  
*

When Peter wakes up only a few hours later, Tony's waiting in the kitchen. They're both still in pajamas. Peter's wearing his Iron Man shirt with Captain America pants. Tony's wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt that's mostly stained with a pair of custom made Spider-Man bottoms. 

He's passing over coffee and aspirin as soon as Peter stumbles into the room. Peter's avoiding his father's eyes, keeping to himself as much as he can as he swallows the pills.

"We're going out," Tony announces, beckoning Peter towards the elevators as soon as Peter's finished with the coffee.

"What?" Peter says, looking confused and a little concerned. "Where are we going? We're in our pajamas?"

"It's like 5 in the morning, kid. Nobody's going to see us. Come on," Tony repeats, beckoning Peter again. 

Peter sighs, but follows Tony nonetheless. 

Tony drives and Peter takes passenger, the latter still unaware of where they're going. 

Tony makes sure to keep the heat up high and some music playing softly as they drive. 

"A hospital?" Peter questions, eyes wide as Tony tries to find a parking space.

"You'll see. Come on," Tony says, nodding his head, an unreadable expression on his face as they climb out of the car.

Tony throws an arm over Peter's shoulders, pulling the kid into his side. They head up to the 4th floor of the hospital and take a seat in the waiting room.

"What are we doing here?" Peter asks softly. 

The room is mostly empty. There's a few tired nurses who pass through the waiting room every once in a while. And there's a family. There's two kids, around 4 and 7. A middle-aged man and grandparents. 

"Be patient," Tony murmurs, letting Peter curl up against his side in the chair. 

Peter hums softly in response. It's warm in the waiting room and there's soft music playing over the speakers. It's simple and easy and the walls are painted in a light blue color. It's peaceful and with his kid curled up against him, Tony knows he can make everything better.

"My mom used to do this for me when I was in high school and particularly more stressed or when my dad was being an ass. She'd drive us out in the middle of the night and we'd wait until the early hours of morning to just see it happen. You'll see what I mean," Tony explains quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head.

It takes another 2 hours until it happens and Tony knows he made the right choice.

A man walks out from a hallway, scrubs on, but a giant smile on his face.

"It's a girl!" he exclaims, tears in his eyes. The family hops to their feet and surround the man with hugs and squeals of joy. The seven-year-old girl is shrieking about having a little sister. The brother is confused but laughing nonetheless. The uncle is crying. The grandparents are whooping and hugging the father tightly. It's all happiness and a mess of joyous tears.

Once they disappear down the hall to where the mother is, Peter turns to look at Tony. There's tears shining in his eyes, none of them falling over the edge.

"That's what you brought me here for?" Peter asks softly, small hands reaching and grabbing Tony's tightly. 

"Yeah... I know it's been hard for you recently, and I know you're having trouble see the bright spots in the world around you... When you were born, I'm sure your aunt and uncle were here. Your dad would've come out of that room, and told them it was a little boy. They would've cried and been so excited to the addition to the family. They would've seen you and your bambi eyes and you would've been so small. And they would've known you'd be the greatest kid of all time," Tony says, smiling down at his kid. He gently wipes away the tears that fall down Peter's cheeks with the pads of his thumb.

"You think?" Peter asks quietly.

"I know so. Your mom, your dad, your uncle, and your aunt raised you to be this amazing kid, Peter. They want you to live a fulfilling life even if they're not here to witness it. They want you to be happy despite everything. They wouldn't want you to be getting drunk like that and wishing it was you. They were okay to go, so long as you would be okay. None of this was your fault. You're still just a kid, Peter. And you've got a long time left to go on this earth. Might as well see the bright points of it," Tony says, offering a reassuring smile.

"Thank you," Peter murmurs almost noiselessly, pushing his body back against Tony's chest, fists curling into Tony's t-shirt.

"Always, kid, always. You're not in this alone," Tony replies. "You're still grounded though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kinda bad that I'm already a week over when I was supposed to be done this, but hopefully I'll be able to write some more today and then finish it tomorrow 
> 
> Lyss


	26. 26-Dehydration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {Medical Inaccuracies (the internet was just giving things to do with the sun or fire, neither of which are helpful so I've more of less made it up)}

When Peter wakes up, the room is dark and hot. So fucking hot. His body is slicked with sweat, coating every inch of his skin. His mouth is dry and he coughs dryly, throat aching at the heat.

"Hello?" He calls, voice rattling and hoarse.

He's sitting in the corner of what appears to be a cell. The floor is pavement, burning to the touch. The walls are brick except for the one adjacent to Peter which is bars.

His wrists are shackled to the wall, chains long enough to move freely throughout the cell.

"Hello?!" He shouts, dragging himself to shaky feet. His head is already spinning. It's insanely hot in the small room.

The sweat is burning at his eyes at this point, salty in his mouth, the liquid not doing anything to quench his thirst.

He sits back down in his corner, fumbling through the pockets of jeans to see if he's left with anything.

He had been walking home from his night at the tower with Tony. Meaning May will be freaking out within the hour or two after his curfew and she'll have called Tony, and they'd be looking for him by now.

His pockets are entirely empty. Nothing. They've left him with nothing. But he's already wanting to take his jeans and shirt off. He wants to rid himself of the things he has been left with, just because of the intense heat in the room. He guesses it's somewhere around 40°Celsius. (Which is like 90-100 Fahrenheit)

He has no idea how long it's been since he was taken. He was knocked out and woke up here. It could've literally been days and he'd have no idea, sweating here in this cell.

"Wow! Looks like you're finally awake," a man drawls, footsteps stalking towards his cell. 

"What the fuck do you want?" Peter demands, refusing to cough in front of the man. 

The man comes into view. He's not really too intimidating. Probably 5'5 (or 65 inches or 1.65 metres whatever yall use) He's got short brown hair and light blue eyes, a little bit of stubble on his chin. Not much standing out. He's not even very muscular.

"My name is Erik Sheppard. I work for an organization called The London Mutants Project," the man announces. "I'm part of the second division which includes Maine, New York, Delaware, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. Our job is to find people who don't quite make sense. Like Spider-Man for example." 

"What are you going to do? Experiment on me? In case you haven't realized, I have the avengers on my side. You're not going to get away with this, and you'll blow your whole operation," Peter responds, wiping some of the sweat out of his eyes with the collar of his t-shirt.

"We're not keeping you here for long. I've been tracking your movements for months, Peter. I know a lot about you. I've learned quite a bit about you spider blood and habits. You're not quite a clean worker. It wasn't hard to get our hands on some of your blood. Unfortunately, Lady Rosenberg of London, needed some more DNA to work with. She asked me to do one experiment she wouldn't be able to do and then send your body to her."

"What? You're just going to kill me?" Peter asks. If that's the case, he knows he's not going to have a lot of time.

"Yes. The last experiment she wanted was to test your thermo regulation in regards to heat instead of cold. I've seen that you don't do well in the cold, but Lady Rosenberg just had to know how you do in the heat," Erik grins. 

"Unfortunately, you do realize, I'll die of dehydration before I die of the heat? I'm not in the sunlight. Your plan is flawed," Peter states, frowning. This was simple knowledge. Ned took a trip to Florida a few years back and Ned almost had a heatstroke because of the sunlight. The doctors told him to just stay hydrated and he'd be fine. 

"Yeah, I've realized. But we don't need you to die of heat. We just need to see how quickly you start showing symptoms and such. No biggie. It'll be quite the painful death, but afterwards, your body will be put towards science!" Erik says, cackling gleefully.

Peter almost gags at that. "I'm a kid. You're okay with torturing a kid?" 

"You're 16. I'd hardly count that as a kid. Plus, you're a mutant. You're a vigilante. You're not going to be treated with the same rules as a human would be," Erik sneers in response, leaning casually against the bars.

"I'm still half human!" Peter says indignantly. "I'm still human just because I've got some spider DNA doesn't mean you're just allowed to kill me!" 

"You'll likely have 2 days left to live, so I'd suggest you start to make your goodbyes. There's a camera recording in the corner and as soon as your body has been shipped off, I'll be releasing this film to the public so the avengers will realize they're not so all-powerful. They'll realize they can't even protect Peter Parker, so how can they protect the world?" Erik drawls, smiling at the curled up boy in the cell. "Have fun. I won't be back until you're dead."

And he walks away. He walks away like he hasn't just condemned a teenage boy to a slow and painful death. Sweating until he'll die of dehydration.

*

It's been at least 8 hours from what Peter's aware of. His head is pounding, muscles spasming randomly, his vision is blurry, spotting black. Breaths coming in short pants and gasps. His sweating has reduced a lot, and as relieving as it feels, he knows it's just because he's got a lack of water to his body. He's running out of liquid to sweat.

He already needs more water than the average person thanks to his increased metabolism and he already doesn't drink as much as he's supposed to. He's already on the brink of dehydration most days just because he forgets to drink water. It's not smart and now he's really starting to regret it. 

He's refused to even speak, coughing making his breathing even more struggled than it already is, but now he's starting to realize that maybe saying his goodbyes might be the best plan. 

He clears his throat, wincing at the scrape of his dry tongue. 

"May... Aunt May... I've gotta- gotta say goodbye. I love you. You've done so so much for me. I don't... I don't know if you'll ever see this, but... but if you do, I love you. I love you so much... and I'm sorry you'll have to lose me too... I never meant for this to happen," Peter pants, head spinning more with his words. He coughs again, a rattling dry cough.

"Tony... Tony, I know I never got to say it... You never liked emotions... But I love you too. Thank you... for everything you've done for me. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have gotten taken... I just- I love you. Thank you. Guess this is goodbye."

Peter can't seem to find the words to continue, mouth coming up empty as his brain fails to provide anymore thought on what to say. 

He lets his chin fall against his chest, desperately trying to get his breathing under control. At this point, he's worried he'll die of asphyxiation instead of dehydration because the hot air just won't let him breathe full breaths. 

His shoulder seizes, chains rattling with his involuntary movements. Peter's learned about this in health class before. Soon, his organs will stop functioning one by one until he falls into a coma and dies. He knows this, but some part of his heart hangs onto the idea that Tony will come save him. Because of course Tony would save him.

His stomach is aching. Rumbling and clawing and sending shooting pains through his spine. He knows how this works. He knows he's going to die. He just has to accept it and let the exhaustion take over. Once he commits, there's no going back. He'll fall into a coma and his brain will swell or shrink, he can barely remember anymore, and then he'll die and maybe it'll be a little more peaceful than what was originally planned.

  
*

Peter doesn't know how long it's been that he's been curled up on the floor trying to make amends with the part of him that wants to hang on until the last moment to see if Tony will come save him. It's been a while. He knows that for sure. He just wants to give up. 

But he's scared. Absolutely terrified of dying in this cell and having his body sent to Lady Rosenberg. Absolutely terrified. 

So he tries his best to hang onto the idea of Tony coming to save him. 

He blinks, and when he opens them, the cell door is open and Tony is standing there just like Peter knew he would be.

But something feels wrong. Of course! This is just his brain falling apart and hallucinating to convince him to die. To let go.

"You're not real," Peter chokes out, tucking his knees tighter to his chest as his stomach clenches painfully again. 

"Why do you say that?" Tony says, tipping his head to the side as he takes careful steps towards Peter.

"Hallucinating," Peter coughs, not sure why he's even trying to use his dwindling life to try to argue with his hallucinations of Tony.

"I am real, Pete. I'm right here," Tony reassures. 

Peter shakes his head determinedly. "You're not real. I'm dying."

"How do you know?" Tony asks, kneeling down in front of Peter.

"If you were really here, you'd be trying to get me out, not just sitting here.... You'd be panicking," the teenager responds, voice barely hanging onto a whisper.

"Why aren't you trying to escape?" Tony asks, "Why do you need me to save you?"

Peter holds up his cuffs limply, his shoulder trembles with the effort to lift his own arm. 

"Can't get out," Peter mumbles, shaking his head as he tucks himself closer to the wall.

"You're a superhero, Peter. I thought you were an avenger."

"Never was. Now I never will be," Peter shrugs. Darkness is creeping up on the edges of his vision. He's glad he's hallucinating Tony. Now he won't have to die alone. "This is okay."

"You're okay with dying?" Tony questions, resting his hand on Peter's shoulder to keep his body partially upright. Peter can feel the chill race through his arm from where Tony's hand lays.

"Yeah... Think.. I think I did good... Good with my life..." Peter murmurs, letting his body lean into Tony's touch. It brings a wave of coolness to his heat and he sighs in relief. 

"Even though it was short," Tony remarks, sitting more comfortably across from Peter. "I think you did good too."

"You're in my head. Of course you're going to agree." Peter doesn't really mind using the last of his dwindling energy to roll his eyes at the hallucination.

"I suppose you're right. You always were a little genius. I'm proud of you."

Peter lets a dazed smile touch his lips, but it disappears as soon as he leans in to hug his mentor. The hallucination vanishes when the kid leans too much of his weight forwards and Peter crashes to the burning pavement.

If he had any tears left to cry, he would be, but instead he simply curls up on the floor and lets his eyes close. 

  
*

He thinks he's long gone, awaiting something more, awaiting the afterlife. But his body has other plans. 

He hears what sounds like gunshots. 

He forces his heavy eyelids open, blinking to try to rid himself of the black spots dancing across his vision. His breathing is labored, every exhale a rattling wheeze.

He blinks, a slow blink where he barely manages to pry his dry eyes open again. And Tony's there again. Inside his cell. The door left open behind him. 

There's no spark of hope when he sees him. 

"Why are you back?" Peter coughs, body curling in on itself at the ache in his lungs.

"Back? We just got here, Peter. We've got to get you out of here. To Bruce," Tony says. Peter can barely make out his face, vision blurring the world beyond recognizable.

"You're more helpful than the last one was," Peter murmurs, letting his eyes close again. 

"What? I don't understand, Pete," Tony says, staying frozen in the doorway.

"Hallucination," Peter says as though it explains the answers to everything. He lazily peels his eyes open again. "Not real."

Tony swears under his breath, suit enclosing his body again. 

Peter tries to keep his eyes focused enough to see what happens next, but a wave of exhaustion hits him and he can't seem to keep himself awake. The darkness beckoning to him seems more appealing than ever. And he lets himself go.

  
*

When Peter comes to, he's so relieved to find himself cool. No heat pounding at him. No headache ripping through his brain. No ache in his lungs as he takes a grateful breath of air. 

The first thing he's aware of, is just how sticky he is. He feels disgusting. Still covered in the sweat from inside that cell. Now cooled down and simply leaving him feeling gross. He decides he deserves at least a few hours in the shower with a full bottle of body wash. 

He opens his eyes and becomes aware of the pain still clawing at his throat. There's at least 3 needles in his arms, but his throat aches like someone stuffed sandpaper in it. 

He groans pathetically. A cough swells up in his chest and he sits up quickly to let it tear through his body. A cup of water is pushed under his chin and he gulps it down, never having been more glad to be able to drink water.

"How're you feeling?"

Peter finally takes in his surroundings. It's the Compound Med-center. He's been here enough to recognize it pretty quickly. Tony's sitting at his bedside, light smile gracing his face and lighting up his eyes.

Peter clears his throat a few times, trying to find his voice in the sea of destruction left from the dehydration. 

"Better... Needa shower." His voice still comes out slurred and hoarse, but it's there and that counts for something. 

"Yeah. You kinda smell," Tony teases, crinkling up his nose jokingly. 

"You'd smell too if you had to sweat for like a whole day," Peter says, rolling his eyes a little bit. He lets his body fall tiredly back into the pillows and he smiles dopily up at his mentor. 

"What's that smile for?" Tony asks, running his fingers through Peter's greasy curls. He doesn't mind it, as long as Peter's here.

"Just glad you're real. Hallucination you was a dick," Peter replies, coughing out a laugh.

Tony passes him a water bottle with a warning to drink slowly so he doesn't throw up. "Was he?"

"Yeah... Kept telling me I should just leave. Didn't seem to understand that... That chains were there for a reason," Peter explains, blinking slowly.

"Man, he sucks. Glad he's gone." The unspoken words are understood. _Glad you're not hallucinating. Glad you're okay. Glad you're alive. Glad I saved you in time._

"Me too-oo," Peter slurs. 

"Go to sleep, Bambi," Tony murmurs. "You're safe now."


	27. 27-Flu

Tony was working in the lab, like always, wrench in one hand, a box of screws in the other, a screwdriver in his teeth, a water bottle left discarded on the table behind him.

"Sir, Peter Parker is calling you," JARVIS announces, turning off the music.

Tony puts his equipment down on the lab bench, finding his vibrating phone beneath a pile of papers Pepper had left him before she went to work.

"What's up, kiddo? Don't you have school?" Tony asks, absentmindedly checking his watch for the date. It's 12pm on a Tuesday.

"This is MJ. We're at a Decathlon meet in Manhattan and Peter's not feeling well. He threw up a few hours ago," a woman informs. "The teacher is saying someone needs to pick him up, but his aunt's in another state for business and... I called you instead."

Tony understood the unspoken words. _You're all Peter's got left._

"Text me the address. I'll be there soon. Just watch the kid," Tony replies, hanging up the phone and pocketing it.

He sighs heavily, rolling his shoulders, letting his muscles stretch and joints pop. He slept decently the night before, he's still tired though from spending the entire morning working in the lab. Tony's secretly hoping that since Peter's sick, they can just nap together all afternoon.

He decides not to bother Happy who's busy with security things down on the first floors of the tower and drive himself to the place Peter's at. 

Tony finally pulls up in front of a conference center where the Academic Decathlon have their competition today. Tony walks through the front door, throwing on a confident smile to the people who try to stop him. As soon as they realize, they back off.

Tony finds Peter no problem. There's buzzer noises, shouted answers, and laughter coming from behind the first big set of doors in the building.

The room is big, spacious. There's a stage on the fall side with two long tables. At each table, sits the teams of Academic Decathlon players. Only Ned is recognizable.

MJ is spotted next. She's sitting on the floor outside an All-Gender bathroom door. She's got a bored expression schooled onto her face, but concern is leeching off of her pretty obviously.

"MJ!" Tony calls, crossing the room towards her. The noise ceases entirely around him and he gives a moment to flash a smile over his shoulder at the two teachers at the front.

"Tony! Thank god you're here. He's been throwing up for the past hour. He's refused to unlock the door for anyone. Not even Ned's been allowed in and I have to go join my team up there. We've already lost our number one," MJ explains, standing up to greet the billionaire.

Tony doesn't bother responding, knocking on the bathroom door. A muffled groan is all he gets in response.

"Pete? Kiddo, open up. I'm taking you home!" Tony calls out, keeping his tone light and gentle to make sure Peter doesn't get guilty about this. 

There's another quiet groan from somewhere behind the door, a few moments of silence before the lock clicks open.

Tony pushes it open slowly, thanking MJ absentmindedly for calling him. Both MJ and Ned have his private number just in case Peter gets into some sort of trouble at school and his Aunt is unavailable. He figured it would end up being a Spider-Man incident, not a sickness, but he's just glad he can help anyways. Peter has an issue with going to Tony about anything other than Spider-Man, he still has some weird belief that Tony only cares about him for his powers and abilities, not the fact he's a good kid.

Peter looks absolutely dreadful. He's managed to crawl back to the toilet from the door, but looks like the movement just about killed him. His skin is sheet white, gaunt, red stained across his cheekbones. His bloodshot eyes are puffy from obviously crying and there's dark circles under his eyes. His fingers are trembling as he clutches the edge of the toilet, lungs heaving in obviously mentally counted breaths to keep himself steady. One hand falls from the edge of the white bowl to wrap around his stomach as he moans painfully again. 

"God, Pete. Why'd you come to school this morning?" Tony asks, moving slowly as to not startle the kid.

Peter takes another 6 second inhale before speaking. "May's not home... Can't call me in sick."

"You could've texted me and I could've called in. I am one of your emergency contacts. I have been since The Vulture," Tony says, keeping his tone low because Peter's pressing his temple against the wall meaning he probably has a headache.

Peter visibly winces at the mention and there's a flash of confusion on his face. "You are?"

"Yeah. May called me a while ago, like months ago, asking if she could put me down as a contact. She was worried you'd do exactly what you've done and come to school in bad condition and refuse to call her. So I'm her backup now," Tony explains, smiling softly down at the kid. He sits on the tiled floor, ignoring the part of his brain that's a little disgusted at the idea of sitting on the floor of a public bathroom. Peter's eyes warily track his movements, body holding entirely still. 

"May's away for business stuff," Peter responds matter-of-factly, letting his eyes fall shut in obvious exhaustion.

"Yeah, I know. May told me before she left. Said I should keep a better eye on you than normal. Just in case. I thought you'd be smart enough to text or call if you needed anything," Tony says, rolling his eyes despite not being seen by the kid.

Peter doesn't respond for a few long seconds and Tony worries that he's fallen asleep or worse passed out on the bathroom floor, but Peter finally peeks open one of his eyes.

"You didn't have to come," he murmurs, wincing a little and shifting to hold his arm tighter around his body.

"Yeah, I did. Your girlfriend's been worried sick about you. Obviously not literally, but she's been really worried," Tony says, rolling his eyes again. 

"She's not my girlfriend," Peter mutters, shutting his eye again. 

"You feeling a little better? Need to throw up anymore?" Tony asks softly, deciding that teasing Peter really isn't going to help.

"Don't have anything left to throw up, Mister Stark," Peter mumbles, voice almost lost through the shouting outside the door from some dispute in the match.

"You think you can make it to the car?" Tony asks, hoping Peter's tiredness is a good thing. He'll make sure to do a full analysis of Peter's condition once they get back to the tower. But they have to make it there first.

Peter nods, almost absentmindedly, fighting off the exhaustion that threatens to overtake him. 

"Okay, kid. Let's go. The sooner we're home, the sooner you can get some rest," Tony says, dragging himself to his feet and offering Peter his hands.

Peter takes them as he raises himself into a standing position, hands clammy and warm. 

"Tired," Peter states, leaving one of his hands tucked tightly in Tony's and wrapping his arm back around his stomach. His eyes are bleary, barely able to make out the objects around him. He's so tired. He just wants to curl up in his bed and die. Just die. 

"I know, kiddo. We gotta get to the car first. C'mon, I've got you," Tony reassures, wrapping his free hand around Peter's shoulders to steer him slowly in the right direction.

Making it out of the bathroom is hard enough. Peter's almost in tears, hunching over himself to try to soothe some of the screaming pain in his stomach. MJ immediately calls a timeout and her and Ned come racing forwards.

"Thank you so much for coming. He kept saying he was fine, but he clearly wasn't. He wouldn't listen to us though and he ended up throwing up outside before I was able to bring him to the bathroom where he's been since school started. He kept saying he'd be fine that it would pass, but like..." Ned trails off, getting a better look at his best friend, concern radiating off him in waves.

"Get better, okay?" MJ says, face pinched in worry. She almost looks like a face Tony's sure he's seen May pull before when Peter admitted to having been stabbed in the gut on patrol. "I'll kill you if you're at school tomorrow."

Peter's sweaty hand clutches to Tony's tighter as he nods at his friends, a smile forced onto his face. "'M okay... Not dying."

Ned immediately rolls his eyes, laughing quietly. "I found a Lego set we haven't finished, still a good couple hundred pieces to go. If you're at school tomorrow, I'll build it without you."

Peter's lips drop open a little bit, shaking his head once.

"Thanks for calling me. I'll strap him to a bed if I have to," Tony says to the teenagers, giving Peter's hand a squeeze to signal moving again. 

  
They finally make it to the car without any problems. Peter curls up in passenger, tucking his knees up to his chest and hiding his face from view, but with the shaking of his back it's a little too obvious he's crying.

Tony starts driving quickly, reaching out to rest a gentle hand on Peter's back, soothingly running his hand up and down the kid's spine. 

"Hot or cold, Pete? Do you want AC or Heating?" Tony asks quietly, worried when Peter takes a few moments to choke out an answer.

"AC... Please." Peter's voice is close to a whimper when it leaves his throat followed by a hiccup and then a whine of pain.

"We're almost there, kiddo. I promise." But that's a lie. They're not even halfway there. The school's not too far from the tower, but the conference center is a little bit farther away. 

Tony turns up the AC, but keeps the fan low, not wanting the loud noise to startle Peter anymore than it has to.

The billionaire focuses on driving, keeping one hand on the trembling kid, one hand on the wheel. He's driving way above the speed limit from his knowledge, but he doesn't really care. He knows he can drive well. He knows he'd never get into an accident, especially with the empty roads, but the worry is making his anxiety levels rise a little more than they should be.

They're almost there when Peter suddenly cries out in pain, knees tucking tighter into himself, back tensing underneath Tony's hand. 

"Mister Stark?" Peter coughs, tucking his head between his knees. "I... I think I'm gonna..."

Tony doesn't need to hear more, slowing the car down quickly but gently as to not jostle Peter, pulling off to the side of the forested road. In other circumstances, if Peter were drunk or had a disease or an injury, Tony would've told him it was okay to throw up in the car, but he knows Peter would've felt bad for months if Tony had let him throw up inside the Audi. It would've just made Peter feel worse with the embarrassed guilt of the situation. 

Peter barely manages to tumble out of the car before he's throwing up again into the ditch on the side of the road. Tony races around the car, dropping to his knees behind Peter to rub his back. 

"It's okay. You're okay," the mentor murmurs reassuringly as a broken sob escapes Peter's throat. Nothing really comes up besides stomach acid and water, but Peter can't stop trembling. 

It takes a good 20 minutes to convince Peter off the side of the road and back into the car, but the rest of the ride to the tower is uneventful. Peter cries miserably into his knees, but doesn't ask to pull over anymore.

When they get back, Tony pulls Peter into his arms, carrying to boy up to the tower without much difficulty. He's done it more times than he can count from Peter getting injured thanks to patrol and even bullies sometimes. Peter's also not very heavy. Mostly skin and bones because of his insane metabolism.

Tony lays the kid on the couch and something inside his heart shatters at the poor kid curled up on the couch. He looks small, so very small. Big, brown, bloodshot eyes staring up at him sadly. Hands reaching out for him. Shoulders hunched over his body. 

Tony can't resist, sitting on the couch and letting the kid curl up on top of him. Limbs intertwining and heartbeats heard steadily from how close they draw to each other.

Once Tony's sure Peter's passed out, he asks Jarvis to call Bruce but turn the volume down to half.

"Tony? It's the middle of the afternoon. Surely Peter couldn't be hurt." There's a teasing tone to his voice, but an obvious underlying of worry. He's had to patch a half-dead kid up way too many times for his liking.

"He's got like the flu or something! I didn't think he could get sick anymore!" Tony exclaims quietly, trying to throw as much emotion as he can into his soft voice. Peter shifts a little bit against his chest before settling back down in his sleep, fists curling into Tony's t-shirt.

"He's got the flu?" Bruce repeats in confusion. "It's probably just the flu, Tony. He's still like half-human."

"Yeah, but he hasn't been sick in 3 years, Bruce... I'm worried."

"I'm not surprised, Irondad," Bruce laughs. His voice falls serious when Tony doesn't reciprocate the humor. "What are his symptoms?"

Jarvis pipes in, "Peter is experiencing symptoms such as high fever of 101.4 degrees, headache, nausea, coughing, sneezing, difficulty breathing, and vomiting."

"Thanks, J. It sounds like a regular flu, Tony. It might be amplified because of his spider genes, but there's nothing much you can do except wait it out. I don't know what else to offer you," Bruce replies, sounding tired all of a sudden. "He's a teenager, Tony. It's not rocket science."

"I'd prefer rocket science over a teenager. I have no idea what I'm doing!" 

Peter shifts again, sniffling in his sleep as he presses his head more firmly against Tony's chest. 

"Just... Chicken Noodle Soup, movies, blankets, hot chocolate, give him like a full thing of Tylenol and hope for the best. Lots of rest. If you really need help with this, call Clint next time. I don't have kids," Bruce says.

"He's not my-"

"Sure he's not, Tony. Have fun."

  
*

It's not really fun, but Tony has a good time. He likes being able to take care of the kid for once. Peter, swaddled in an oversized Iron Man Onesie, whining if Tony leaves for too long, asking for more blankets despite already having 8, counting the marshmallows in the hot chocolate, thanking him profusely for the soup, getting all dopey and excited at certain scenes in the movies, falling asleep against Tony's chest every couple hours, mumbling in his sleep, messy bedhead of curls, big brown eyes. 

Tony knows Peter isn't his. Not biologically. Not legally. But in all the ways that really matter, they're family. 

  
____

school fucking sucks i hate everything wowie 

Lyss 


	28. 28-Space

{This has been done a few times before and I thought it was a really cool idea for some whumpy sadness yk}  
{IW Spoilers}  
{Endgame Trailer Spoilers}

{Peter doesn't die in the snap, he ends up on the spaceship with Tony}

Peter curls tighter against Tony's chest, breathing uneven but not worryingly uneven. Tony doesn't mind letting Peter borrow as much of his heat as he needs to. He just tugs the kid closer to him, wishing he could save the kid from this hell.

They'd run out of food a few days earlier and Peter's been suffering for it thanks to his fast metabolism. He's been having awful stomach aches and have been feeling lethargic all the time. 

Peter had hope for a long time while they were stuck on the ship, but now that they've run out of food and are still floating endlessly through space, he's lost that hope and has started accepting his death. There's no way to stop it at this point. Tony's tried everything to get the ship to start, but nothing's worked. It's too broken.

So they've accepted it. There's nothing they can do. Tony's okay with dying. Peter's Okay with dying. But neither are really okay with letting the other die. They're not happy about it. Unfortunately, they're both painfully aware that one of them will die before the other. Both are hoping it's the other. Neither wants to watch the other die, but neither wants to leave the other alone after they die even for just a few minutes.

A soft whine escapes Peter's throat as he wraps an arm tightly around his stomach. Tony barely feels the hunger, he's used to forgetting to eat for a little longer than normal. He's gone a few days without eating or sleeping before, but Peter already needs to eat 2 to 3 times as much as the average person, so his strength has dwindled and the stomach pain is everlasting and excruciating. Clawing at his insides.

Tony murmurs some soft words to Peter, wishing they were enough to take away his pain. It's not. It never will be. Peter's in pain, he's going to die, and there's absolutely nothing Tony can do to stop it.

Tony's decided not to feel guilty for this. He doesn't want to feel heavy when he passes away. He wants to be alright so Peter's alright too. He knows Peter's going to feel guilty if he knows Tony's feeling guilty too. And that's not something Tony wants to burden the kid with. He's already shouldering enough as is.

"May's not gonna know," Peter finally whispers. There's so much weight attached to his voice. Way more weight than a kid should be able to have in the first place.

Tony hums softly in response, not sure how to respond. Tony's got a lot of people who're going to be confused as to what happened after he left, if they're even still alive after the snap. But they know where he went. They know he went to space. May, on the other hand, thinks Peter's still on a field trip. Thinks Peter might just be somewhere with his school. Not stuck on a spaceship somewhere far away from Earth with no supplies left and dwindling oxygen. She's not going to have a clue what happened to Spider-Man.

"She's going to think I'm still with Ned," Peter continues as though it really matters now. "She's going to expect me to come home and I'll never go back and she's going to realize what happened... Unless she's..." _Unless she's already gone._

"Don't think like that, kiddie. She'll be so proud of you. Well just hope that Bruce or Nat or someone out there will figure it out and let her know what happened," Tony replies, voice barely above a whisper. There's no noise beyond the two of them, breathing, heart beats, and soft words spoken between the two. Nothing else can be heard for hundreds of thousands of miles of empty space.

"She'll be okay," Peter murmurs, a sort of finality to his voice. Tony hates that a child has had to become okay with death at his front steps. Hates that a child has had to make acceptances like this one.

In another life, Peter would be doing his homework at the tower in the lab. Soft classic rock music playing in the background. Tony working on a new update for the Iron Spider Suit without telling Peter about its existence. Peter would ask a question about a calculus problem and Tony would drop everything to help him understand the concept. Tony would offer to make dinner and they'd make pasta together in the kitchen and Peter would make a mess, and Tony would laugh. And then they'd curl up on the couch together and fall asleep while watching a movie.

Instead, they're curled up on an uncomfortable mattress in a spaceship an inevitable death on their doorstep. 

When Tony wakes up, he's lying in the bed with Peter curled up beside him, back to the billionaire. His whole body is trembling and it takes Tony a few groggy moments to realize Peter's crying.

Tony lays a gentle hand on Peter's back, sighing softly. "What's wrong, kiddie?"

It's a stupid question, Tony knows that, but it's still important despite them being starving in a spaceship.

"Hurts," Peter sobs, curling in closer to himself. "Hurts. I'm sorry."

"What hurts, kiddo? What's wrong?" Tony asks patiently, running his hand up and down Peter's back. He can already feel the kid's spine through his t-shirt.

"Tummy hurts," Peter cries, sounding like a little kid all of a sudden. "Hungry."

"I know, kiddo. I know. I'm sorry," Tony says. The only thing that could be helpful towards the kid would be telling him it would be over soon, but even that isn't the least bit helpful.

"Hurts," Peter whines again, tucking his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, tucking his head into his knees.

"I know, kiddie. I'm sorry," Tony murmurs. "How can I help?"

Peter whines in pain, back trembling more with his cries. He chokes on a sob, whimpering and trying to curl closer to himself, nails digging into his arms to try to make the stomach pains stop.

"It's okay, kiddie. It's okay. Deep breaths. It's going to be okay," Tony murmurs, running his fingers through Peter's knotted curls.

"I'm sorry," Peter whimpers, sniffling as he tries to calm his tears.

"Not your fault, kiddie. Thought we agreed no guilt for anything," Tony replies, heavy heart trying to restrict his breathing for his poor kid.

Peter hauls himself into a sitting position and collapses against Tony, body shuddering. Tony realizes with freezing anxiety that he could probably wrap his fingers all the way around Peter's tiny wrists. He looks gaunt. It's been 4 days now without food and Peter's body is deteriorating without the necessary nutrition. Sharp, bony elbows and shoulders knock against him as Peter draws himself close in the hug, tears finally slowing down enough for him to breathe properly.

Tony knows they only have somewhere around 12 hours of oxygen left, but he's worried Peter might die of malnutrition before he dies of lack of oxygen. That would suck so much more than their already shitty fate.

"I've got you, buddy. It's going to be okay." Tony knows it's a lie. It's not going to be okay. They're going to die. This is it for both of them.

"I just-" Peter's breath hitches and he stops to slow down a little before he speaks, voice soft and tired. "I just wanna go home, Mister Stark. I wanna go home."

Tony's already shattered heart manages to break even more with the shaky words.

"I know you do, kiddo. I know. You don't deserve this."

"I wanna go home!" Peter cries, trembling thin fingers curling into Tony's t-shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanna go home. I'm hungry and tired and I miss Aunt May and Ned and MJ and even Flash. I just want to go home."

"I'm sorry, kiddie. I know this is unfair. You don't deserve any of this. I'm sorry. If there was anything I could do, I would," Tony murmurs, pressing chaste kisses to Peter's curls and on his forehead.

Peter takes a few moments to take deep breaths and calm down before he pulls away from his father figure.

His eyes are puffy and bloodshot, sunken cheeks tracked with his tears. He looks so small and young, but he schools his expression into one of determination.

"This isn't your fault, Mister Stark. I swear. I know you'd give anything for me to be back home, so this isn't on you. Just... I don't want our last moments to be sad, you know? Might as well make the most of it," Peter murmurs, offering a gentle smile.

Tony tries to say something but the words get caught in his throat at how grown up this kid can be. He tugs the kid back into his chest, hugging him as though he can protect Peter from the world (or lack there of.)

*

They're running down to their last few hours of oxygen and they can already feel it getting thin. They've curled up together in the cockpit of the spaceship so they can see the stars. They're lethargy and tired and no doubt scared underneath their veneers of nonchalant.

Peter's fingers curls tightly around Tony's, holding onto it like he's a toddler in need of assistance while crossing the street.

"Can we..." Peter takes a long inhale, eyes tracing the stars they pass. "Can we talk?"

"What about?" Tony murmurs, shifting a little bit. Peter's sitting practically on his lap, body curled into Tony's chest. The position is helping Peter's stomach cramps and will help Peter fall asleep once the lack of oxygen takes over.

"Everything," Peter sighs. He fiddles absentmindedly with the hem of Tony's t-shirt, yawning a little bit. "I just... I feel like we need to talk about the stuff we never have before... I don't want to regret never telling you."

Tony hates the finality of Peter's tone, arms tightening around his small body.

"Like what, kiddie? I'm all for talking," Tony mumbles, pressing an absentminded kiss to Peter's temple. The teenager leans into the touch.

"I just... After my mom and my dad and then Uncle Ben... I just- I never thought I'd feel like I'd have like a parent again. And I know you're not my parent and Aunt May's been phenomenal, but it's just... You care about me. A lot. I know that. And you... you- uh, you act like a..." Peter gets all flustered trying to talk about whatever it is that's on his mind.

"Spit it out, kiddo. What's this about?" Tony says, laughing softly and shifting Peter closer to his body.

"You're like a dad to me, I guess. You're like a parent. You care and you help me with my homework and you watch my stupid movies with me and you hug me and you know when I need your help and you listen to my stupid voicemails I leave for you and you just... you care and I really really appreciate it," Peter explains, eyes watering as he looks up at his mentor. "You're like... You're more than just Iron Man. You're more than just Mister Stark. You're more than just the guy that took me to Germany and gave me a new suit. You care like I'm the only thing that matters. You.. You're like a father to me and I... I just- I..."

Tony smiles, a tear curling down the curves of his nose.

"I love you too, kid," he murmurs, cupping Peter's face gently and letting the pad of his thumb wipe away Peter's tears.

Peter breaks down, pushing his crying face back into Tony's chest and hanging on like his life depended on it. Tony didn't want Peter's last moments to be in tears, but he also knows that Peter's happy. He's happy because he's going to die having been doing something great. He's going to die with his fatherly figures arms wrapped tightly around his body, breathing in the scent of motor oil and metal. He's going to die thinking about better times than what he has now.

Tony's okay with dying if it means he gets to hold his kid close and listen to his breaths even out in his sleep, fingers drooping away from his shirt, head falling against his collarbone.

He's okay with dying because his kid seems him as a father just like how Peter's, in all ways except biological or legal, his kid.

He's okay with dying so long as he gets to hold his kid as they float endlessly through space, pride swelling in his chest at just how damn brave the kid is.

He's okay with dying so long as Peter's here in his arms, curled up against him, sleeping soundlessly like death isn't imminent.

Tony's okay with dying so long as he's got Peter.

And Peter's okay with falling asleep, knowing he'll never wake up again, so long as he's got Tony.


	29. 29-Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {this one is shitty compared to my last one and the next one will probably be shitty too, but the last one's hopefully gonna be rly good. We'll see}
> 
> {this is just like highkey shade against starker bcs like no}

Peter had been Tony's apprentice for almost 2 and a half years. And so far, not much got out to the public. Sure, people saw Peter with Tony, but nobody had really looked into it yet. They figured Peter was an intern or a charity case or some other boring idea. Both of them were perfectly content with Peter staying out of the limelight.

Tony can remember his childhood being ruined through the press. He wasn't allowed to have any secrets or hide anything. Everything got into the papers somehow. It didn't help that his dad forced him along to press conferences and events for the publicity.

Tony swore that if he ever had a kid, he'd never force them into those situations. Too much stress. It was one of the reasons Tony spiraled into alcoholism and other shit in his University years. Everyone sees everything and there's no way around that. Words get twisted and actions get magnified. It's hell.

He knows Peter's not his kid, but it's the same deal. He's not going to force him into the limelight. Not going to make him explain to the world who he is. He's worried Peter would crumble under the pressure and spiral just like he did.

Peter's his mentee, his apprentice, his kid in all ways the ways that matter. But the world doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know about them or their father-son relationship. Nobody but the two of them, May, Rhodey and Pepper need to know. Nobody besides their circle.

But they both knew one day it would crumble. One day, somebody would see them hanging out and would snap pictures and then the whole world would know.

Tony just never thought it would happen so soon.

*

Tony wakes up early that Wednesday morning. He has to pick the kid up at lunch because Peter has a science project he needs to work on and asked to use the lab. Tony has a couple hours until then, so he heads out to the kitchen in need of some coffee.

On the dining room table is a plate of eggs and toasts, coffee and water on the side. Along with a little note from Pepper.

_Have fun with Peter today!_

_Love you,_

_Pep_

Tony can't help the smile that touches his face as he starts to eat, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check Twitter headlines.

In big bold letters is the one thing he wished he'd never have to see.

**_Stark's Intern? Or something more?_ **

Attached to that is a blurry picture of him and Peter. His arm is wrapped around the kid's shoulders. They're both smiling peacefully, Peter seems to be in the middle of saying something. It's from just the evening earlier when they went out for ice cream.

Tony starts scrolling through the speculations, heart straining more and more with each one, anger filling his veins.

_Probably just a charity thing. Stark gets publicity, kid gets money and a day with Iron Man. @\mkennataylor33_

_We all know how Stark had those playboy years. Wouldn't be surprised if at least one kid happened along the way. Just didn't think Stark would actually see him @\jeremydebois02_

_Oof. Can't believe none of y'all have pointed out the obvious. That guy looks like he's 16. Legal age. Technically not illegal if Stark wanted a boy toy. Just saying @\fortniteplyr2001_

_If I were his age and that rich and famous, I'd probably take the opportunity too. Teenagers look up to Stark. They'd do anything for him. Wouldn't be surprised if Stark took advantage of that idea @\t.balboa_

_@\t.balboa- what are you implying?? @\runnerupforsecond_

_@\runnerupforsecond- just saying. Like kid must be a good little boy toy. He'd do anything for Stark. Probably was a cute little virgin before Stark came along @\t.balboa_

_@\t.balboa- fuck that's hot @\runnerupforsecond_

Tony's has clenches in anger as he quickly flicks out of the thread. He can't believe people would actually think he, a middle-aged Guy, would have sex with a high schooler. What the fuck? That's so stupid. He's not some fucking pedophile.

The second most trending thing is something called Starker that he decides he would literally punch something if he opened. The third one is titled Peter Parker. Fuck, they've already found his name.

It opens up a news article.

**_Peter Parker, intern of Tony Stark._ **

_Yes, you heard right. We've found a name for the mysterious guy in the trending picture. Peter Parker. 16 years old, goes to Midtown High. And interns for the famous Tony Stark._

_Not only that, but apparently they've got a bond between the two. What person would take their intern out for ice cream?? We think there's something a little closer going on between the two. Maybe just a friendship. Maybe it's a family thing. There's even speculation that it could be R-rated. Whatever it may be, we'll be waiting for Tony Stark to be making an announcement sometime soon to clear up any of this misinformation._

Tony's blood is boiling. People are going to harass Peter for years about this. The kid has enough on his plate as is, now this? This just isn't fair. They've already got his name, age, and even school. It won't be long until he won't be able to go anywhere without being harassed by the press. No matter what Tony says about leaving the kid alone, people will always disrespect his boundaries.

He does the only logical thing.

Call Pepper.

"Tony? I'm kinda busy..." Pepper murmurs as soon as she answers. She knows he wouldn't call unless it was important.

"It's about Peter. Check your twitter... What do I do?" Tony explains, not bothering to conceal his anger. He knows once she sees it, she'll be pissed too.

Muffled on the other end, Pepper excuses herself from the meeting she was in. There's a long few moments of silence before she speaks again.

"You've been accused of this sort of shit before, Tony. This isn't the first time," Pepper mumbles, though her annoyance is poorly concealed.

"This is different! This is Peter we're talking about. Not some stupid accusations. He's going to be shoved into this whole thing of press and pictures and people who want things from him. He's still a kid, Pep. I don't want this for him... Between his life and Spider-Man, he has enough on his plate to deal with," Tony explains, starting to pace the room.

Pepper sighs heavily. "I know... I didn't want this to happen either... But at this point, there isn't much to do besides try to fix this. We'll have to do a press conference to explain that Peter's your personal intern and maybe even say you're family friends or something. Something to explain why you're closer than the average mentor/apprentice. Tell them to leave Peter alone. We can't just ignore this."

"They're not going to listen to me. They're going to go after Peter anyways. You know that," Tony says, huffing out a loud breath of air. He's beyond pissed at this. Some people have no sense of boundaries.

"I know... But it'll be better than what people are saying right now. We need to clear it up. You think you can explain what's going on to Peter when you pick him up at lunch. Or better yet, call him ASAP and let him know. Call May as well. Make sure she understands that this is going to affect her life as well. I'll schedule a press conference for early tomorrow morning. Give Peter the option of coming or not. It's going to be fine, Tony," Pepper explains, sounding courageous and head-strong, like always. Tony can't relate too well. He's angry and worried and overwhelmed. But he knows Peter can handle this. He can handle anything.

*

"May? This is Tony," the billionaire starts, forcing himself to sound calm.

"I saw the headlines, Tony. It was hard not to," May says, sighing heavily.

Panic surges through his chest. "I swear to you, May, I would never, ever take advantage of your nephew like what they're saying. I swear. Me and Pepper have figured out a plan of action, but I totally understand if you don't want me to see Peter again-"

"What?" May cuts in, confusion coloring her voice. "I know you're not a fucking pedophile, Stark. I know that. That's not what I care about. I just need to know if you're going to keep him safe. I know what publicity can do to a person. Just keep our kid safe for me, okay?"

"Of course. I'm so sorry this had to happen... This might end up affecting you too. People might find out who Peter lives with and could start harassing you for answers or something... Hopefully it doesn't come to it, but if it starts getting worse, there's always rooms in the tower for the both of you. There's way better security and safety here..."

"Thank you for the offer, Tony. I'll keep it mind. I'll tune into the press conference. Hopefully it's unnecessary, but I'll keep it in mind."

"Okay... I'll let you get back to work. I'll have Peter call you tonight to explain things further, okay?"

"Sounds good, Tony. Keep me in the loop. Bye."

*

"Hey, kiddo," Tony starts, keeping his tone light and airy.

"Mister Stark, I'm in the middle of Chemistry. Can this wait?" Peter says. His tone is more hoarse than normal and Tony worries Peter already knows about what's going on.

"You sound like shit, kid."

"I was out really late last night.. Sorry. Crime doesn't really follow a curfew. I woke up late and had to run to school. Hope you're feeding me a good lunch because I'm gonna need it," Peter says, suddenly sounding happier.

"Course I am, kiddo. You think your aunt would let me bring you back to the tower without the promise of a good lunch... I need to tell you about something, kiddo. You wanna sit down and listen carefully?" Tony says slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"You're scaring me, Mister Stark," Peter murmurs.

Tony can imagine Peter's wide, innocent eyes and his bouncing knee and his messy bedhead of curls. He wishes he didn't have to take the childish vulnerability away from the poor kid.

"You're trending on Twitter," Tony says, his attempt at humor falling short. "A picture of the two of us is circulating the internet. It's the talk of the day. Unfortunately, this means a press conference to clear up some theories about what's going on and most likely, formally introducing you to the world. Obviously you've got the choice whether you want to attend or watch it on TV, and if you want to speak or not. We don't really have any options here, kiddo. I'm really sorry."

"Really?" Peter's voice comes out soft and high pitched.

Somewhere on the other end, another voice pops in, "What's happening?"

"Shush, Ned. Gimme a second," Peter mumbles.

"I'm so sorry, Underoos. I know neither of us wanted this to happen. I'm sorry it had to happen like this. You know how hard I was trying to keep you hidden from the public's eye," Tony explains, swallowing his emotions heavily.

"I know... Not your fault. I just- What does this mean? What happens now?" Peter sounds genuinely scared. Like this is the hardest thing he's had to face. It might be.

"For now, try to stay away from talking to anyone besides who you're closest to. I've already let your aunt now. I'll be picking you up at lunch. Try to stay off the internet as best as you can. We're going to figure this out tonight, okay?"

"Okay," Peter squeaks. "Everything's going to be okay, right?"

"If things don't blow off within the next week, then you and May will start staying at the tower for safety reasons. The press can be brutal. Happy will start driving you to and from school. For now, try not to go out at all. Maybe even take at least a few days off Spider-manning. People will be more likely to see you changing... Just lay low. I'll figure this out."

"Okay," Peter says, meekly. "I trust you."

"Have fun at school, kiddie. I'll come get you in an hour."

*

Peter walks out of the school drowning in an oversized hoodie, ducking into passenger quickly. Tony's just glad there aren't any paparazzi at the school to ruin this already.

"Who'd you steal that from?" Tony teases, tugging at Peter's sleeve.

"Ned. Told him what happened, he gave me his sweater and a snack and told me I shouldn't worry," Peter explains, smiling lightly though his red-rimmed eyes are hard to ignore.

"I'm gonna figure this out, okay? Everything's going to be just fine," Tony replies, offering a gentle smile as he starts the drive back to the tower.

"I know... Just got me worried and I'm already really tired. And I read some of the stories... Sort of just spiraled at break. I'm feeling better now though," Peter mumbles, rubbing at his eyes absentmindedly. "I know we can handle this."

"Have you thought about the conference?" Tony asks.

"Yeah. I think I have to go and I have to speak. I need to get it over with. I think I need to do this... Just so I can try to make sure May isn't affected by this."

"You don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with. I won't make you do anything. I'm not going to use you for publicity," Tony says, not bothering to leave the edge out of his voice.

"I know you won't. I just... I need to do this. Some of the things people were saying about us... I need people to know they aren't true."

* (oops. There's way too many time skips in this but idk how to write this. I didn't think this through ah)

At dinner that evening, with Pepper sitting across from Tony and Peter at the head of the table, pasta dished out in front of them, Peter looks anxious as hell.

"I know you're not used to being the center of attention, Peter. But I promise, with Happy on security, you're going to be perfectly safe," Pepper finally says.

"It's not that, Miss Potts," Peter mumbles shyly, phone buzzing on the table again. It's been buzzing nonstop since earlier this afternoon.

"Call me Pepper, honey. It's no big deal," she says nonchalantly, though they both know he won't.

"It's just..." Peter's phone buzzes again and he visibly cringes.

"Are people giving you a hard time?" Tony asks, already putting two and two together. Peter's always had problems with jerks at school and this probably just made it a million times worse.

"Popularity hitting?" Pepper questions, a knowing frown on her face.

Peter shakes his head, a deep flush on his neck and cheeks, passing his phone to the woman. "People are being jerks about the rumors."

_Flash: you probably just aren't answering bcs you're too busy being Stark's boy toy right? That's why you went home early??_

_Madison: I would kill to be in your position. Can't believe you're denying everything. Having Stark give you money just in return for sex? I'd do it in a heartbeat. Win-win, right?_

_Rebecca: who would've thought the nerdiest loser in our entire school would be such a fucking slutty whore?? Bet you take it so good for Stark too_

_Elliot: ha everyone knew you'd do something stupid like this. Getting Stark as your fucking sugar daddy. I'm not surprised by you or by Stark_

_Flash: you're a fucking whore, right? A fucking slut for Stark. Probably begged him to pick you as his little slut huh_

Pepper can't physically read anymore with her stomach flipping. She shuts the phone off and passes it back to Peter, ignoring the prying eyes of her fiancé. If he read those, he'd probably personally head to the school and tell them off. That would just end up making matters worse.

Peter's eyes have gotten watery as he shoves another forkful of pasta unwillingly into his mouth. He swallows thickly, biting his lip to try to hold himself together.

"What are people saying?" Tony demands, though his voice is still gentle.

"A bunch of shit," Peter mutters, glaring at his plate.

"Like what?" Tony pushes.

"Tony," Pepper says warningly, putting a hand on Peter's arm to try to convey her sympathy.

"What are they saying?" Tony demands, a little angrier this time, knowing it's something bad.

Peter sniffs, keeping his eyes on the table and face flushing more in shame. "Normally along the lines of me being a slut. How apparently I have sex for money."

"What the- You're kidding, right? This is absolute bullshit," Tony exclaims angrily, fist tightening on his fork.

Peter glances up, glassy eyes spilling over. 

"I'm sorry, Mister Stark. I really am. I shouldn't- I shouldn't have- I can't believe- I just- I know you wouldn't-" Peter stutters miserably, pushing his fists against his eyes to try to stop his tears.

"Pete, hey, kiddo. Breathe for me, okay? This isn't your fault, nor is it mine. This is just people blowing things out of porportion and trying to ruin what we've got," Tony says, cooling his anger quickly.

"We all know that none of it is true. We know that and that's what matters. Why are stressing about this? It's not on you," Pepper murmurs, taking Peter's wrists and pulling his hands away from his face to make sure he doesn't hurt himself accidentally.

"I just- I didn't want you to think that- that's why I'm here. I'm not here for money or for sex or for something more than just being here, you know?" Peter cries, sniffling between every few words. "I don't want anything from you guys."

"We know you don't, kiddie. Some people just like to make up rumors and believe what the internet says. Well clear it all up tomorrow morning, okay? It's all going to be just fine. Well fix this."

*

_"Hello. I'm, uh, I'm Peter. Peter Parker. Though I suppose you already know that. I was brought out into the media through a picture someone took of me and Mister Stark. Rumors blew up everywhere overnight. I wanted to make it absolutely clear that me and Mister Stark are not in a relationship or some of the other sh-stuff that people came up with. Sure, I'll agree, it's more than just an internship. I lost my parents when I was really young and lost my uncle a few years ago. It wasn't easy, but Mister Stark sort of became a new parental figure for me. I needed it. I needed somebody to look out for me, and he was there and he cared about me like I was his son. And for that, I'll always be grateful. That being said, I'm still a teenager. I've got homework and friends and extra curriculars. I need privacy away from the public eye, you know? Maybe if one day I take over Stark Industries from Miss Potts, maybe then I'll come into the spotlight. For now, please respect me and my family's privacy. Thank you."_

_And unsurprisingly, once Peter flashed his soft puppy dog eyes at the crowd, nobody could deny him of what he wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? I don't know her?   
> What even is this idk I'm sick and stressed with school work whoops I'll hopefully be finishing with this today and tomorrow :)))
> 
> Lyss


	30. 30-Bloodstains and Black Holes

_December 15th_

The black hole grows in his chest, weight settling on his lungs heavily, denying him a proper full breath in. It's not going to be a good day. His mind is loud. 

It was a dreary morning. Sun very slowly rising in the horizon beyond the tall buildings, hazy and barely colored a dull orange. Clouds float across the grey sky, dulling out the soft glow from the sun. Drizzling rain catching on windows. Not enough for people to carry an umbrella, but enough for people to speed walk down the streets and seek shelter in small shops and buildings down the street.

Peter lays in his bed, blankets tucked up to his chin. The heat radiates off his body from his fuzzy pajama bottoms and piles of blankets over him, letting him bask in the peace that every soft breath gives him.

Despite everything, the date held more importance than any other day. It didn't hold sadness per se, just held a somber tone that made the teenager unable to move from his bed.

He snuggled farther down in his blankets, quiet sigh escaping his mouth as the warmth shifts through his body. His brain is barely working, leaving him in a peaceful sort of tired where he can barely move his limbs.

The bed feels like a magnet, sticking him to the mattress, unable to move from there.

Peter knows a lot of things. But more than anything, he knows that if he moves, the black hole will begin, sucking him into a spiral of darkness and nothingness and pain and confusion and anger and sadness and loneliness and grief and guilt and every other adjective that could describe how it feels to be passing an anniversary of the day someone close to you had died.

3 years ago today, Uncle Ben had died.

3 years ago today, Peter had lost yet another family member.

For now, he's at peace, curled up beneath his blankets, watching the drizzling rain hit the window, letting the warmth overtake his heavy eyelids.

*

It had been a dreary morning when Ben had died, all those years earlier. Just like it is today. Peter remembered that much. Most of everything else was tucked in locked boxes somewhere in the back of his mind, untouchable, forgotten.

He knows exactly what he's doing. He's repressing his feelings and trying to pretend to be okay. He knows how bad that is. He's heard the stories from Tony about what that did to him. He's seen May do it a few times before when he was younger. He even saw Ben do it when he was really little, he just hadn't realized it for a long time. 

But despite all that, it doesn't stop him from pushing the bubbling emotions into their cases and tucking them away, hopefully never to be seen again. Unfortunately, he knows that won't be the case. 

It's sometime around noon when he finally moves and grabs his phone off his nightstand. He's got a dozen messages in his notifications from that morning. He doesn't bother reading any of them, most of them being from Ned anyways. Probably just school things. He doesn't have the energy to care. 

He sighs heavily, letting the phone fall to his chest. He doesn't know what he's doing anymore. He's tired. Tired in his bones, settling heavily inside him like weights tying him to the ground. 

A scream echoes from the streets. A happy scream coming from children playing in the mist outside. It pierces into Peter's head like daggers. 

He remembers when he was a carefree child. Way back when he was a two-year-old kid with a big heart and exploding with innocent and joy. When he hadn't lost anything yet. When he hadn't known what loss felt like. When he didn't know grief or guilt or sadness like he does now. When he didn't have to drag these weights of emotions behind him, throwing on the happy faces like they weren't a lie. 

He remembers playing hide and go seek in the house with his parents, their faces long since blurred out in his memory. 

Inside his head, the boxes of emotions rattle against their restraints, wanting to escape through tears on his face. But he doesn't let them. 

Instead, he turns on The Office and hopes to god he can push through the day without breaking down. 

  
*

Hours later of napping and staring at his ceiling and binge watching The Office, his phone rings.

It's somewhere around 2pm and Peter's heart is beginning to ache with the effort of holding himself together. He refuses to admit it still hurts. 

"Yeah?" Peter huffs, voice hoarse from lack of use throughout the long day.

"Kiddo? I just talked to your friend. You're not in school today?" It's Tony. His voice is calming, gentle against the emotion that swirls on his insides.

Peter can't seem to get his throat to function anymore. He's so tired. It makes his lungs ache with every inhale of breath he forces into himself. Makes his eyes lose focus on the plain beige ceiling above him. The phone is heavy in his grip against his ear and he can barely convince himself to continue breathing, let alone speak to Tony.

"Kid?" Tony repeats. There's another long pause that follows. "I'm coming by the apartment with your homework... Are you feeling okay? I'm going to be pissed if I see you're injured."

Peter coughs half-heatedly before speaking. "I would've gone to school if I were injured, Mister Stark. You know that."

Tony laughs sarcastically at that, a car engine starting somewhere in the background. "I'll be there in 15, kid."

Peter doesn't bother responding, letting the phone fall to his chest before hitting the end call button. 

He can't move. He knows he can't move. If he leaves the safety of his bed, the vortex will take over and the boxes of emotions will burst open and he'll be sucked into the black hole of pain. He can't do that. Not when Mister Stark comes over. But on the other hand, he doesn't want to just lay in bed, looking weak and pathetic despite having no injuries. 

The internal debate ends up lasting the full 15 minutes of preparation time he was given, and by the time he's deciding the second option is probably better, the front door is opening. 

Peter doesn't bother moving. Letting his tired eyes fall back to focus on the plain ceiling above him. There's cracking in the ceiling, little fractures tracing out from the corners of his room. There's also a bloodstain on the ceiling. Probably getting back from patrol and smearing the blood on the ceiling when he crawled to get to the other end of his room.

But in the moment, the blood only reminds Peter of one thing. 

_Uncle Ben!_ It's a scream from a scared kid, echoing through Peter's brain. 

_Blood. Blood. Blood._

It took days to get the blood out from under his fingernails from where he tried to hold Ben's blood inside of him.

_Sirens. Flashing lights. Shiny badges._

_His fault. His fault. All his fault._

_May's worried face when her nephew was brought back to her house by the police, an emotional wreck._

_May sobbing when the news was delivered._

_May clutching her nephew tight to her body as she collapsed to the floor in agony. Her husband, gone._

_Guilt. Grief. Guilt. Grief. Guilt. Grief._

_May pushing away her emotions, her pain, to care for her teenage responsibility._

_May crying into her pillow late at night when she thought Peter couldn't hear._

_The guilt. The never ending pit of guilt trying to eat Peter alive._

_The blood. The nightmares. The pain. The repression. The flashbacks. The funeral._

"Kid?" Tony's voice comes out worried. Almost scared.

Peter snaps back to himself, tearing his eyes away from the stain on his ceiling. 

"Hi," Peter replies, lazily tipping his eyes up to where Tony stands in his doorway. There's a pile of pages in his hands that he lays gently down on Peter's desk. 

"Needa clean your room sometime, kiddie. Getting a little messy in here," Tony mumbles halfheartedly as he crosses the room and sits on the edge of Peter's bed. "You feeling okay?"

Peter lets his eyes float back to the ceiling, a sigh escaping his chapped lips. "I got blood on the ceiling."

_Screaming. His own screaming. From that night 3 years ago. Concrete digging into his knees. A police woman's hand on his shoulder, trying to convince him away from the scene. Blood staining his fingers and hands and shirt and jeans and oh god it's everywhere._

"That looks old, Pete," Tony says, frowning deeply when he follows Peter's eyes up to the ceiling.

"It is. It's been there for a long time," Peter answers as though it all makes sense. He can't move. If he puts too much energy into something, his boxes will unleash all the feelings. He can't do that to May. He can't feel sad about something that was his fault. That makes no sense. It's his fault Ben's dead. He can't keep crying about it. He has to be the strong shoulder for May to cry on. 

"Why are you so worried about the bloodstain, kid? May giving you a hard time about it?" Tony asks, tipping his head to the side as he desperately tries to understand the blank kid in front of him.

_The blood stains his hands. No matter how many times he washes them, the blood will never wash away. He killed someone._

_His fault. His fault. His fault. His fault._

_May should be angry. Should've kicked him out. Should've killed him for what he's done. But instead she hugs him and holds him tight and tells him it'll be okay. Why isn't she angry? She should be angry. He doesn't deserve the kindness._

_Guilt. Guilt. Guilt._

"I just noticed," Peter replies, shrugging as best as he can. The black hole inside him is threatening to tug him under entirely, already swirling angrily inside him. Flashes of that night flickering in front of his vision. Anymore and he'll be too far gone for Tony to pull him out. 

Tony stays quiet, picking at a thread in a blanket absentmindedly.

Peter blurts, "Are black holes heavy?"

"What?" Tony says, turning his full attention to the wide eyed kid staring up at him as though Tony had all the answers in the world. "What's this about?"

Peter flails his hands for a second, the black hole tugging at his guts as he moves. He finally points to his chest, blinking too many times in confusion. "It's a black hole. It's heavy. Are black holes meant to be heavy?"

Tony shakes his head in confusion, leaning a little bit above the kid. He rests his palm gently against the kid's chest, heartbeat pumping steadily through him.

Peter's body tenses under the touch.

_Reversed. Peter leaning over Ben's body. Hand over his uncle's chest. Holding the gunshot wound to try to stop the bleeding._

_Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. It'll never come off. He'll have to throw out the clothes. He wishes he could peel the skin off his hands to rid himself of the bloodstains._

_Guilt overwhelming him, becoming the black hole inside his chest. Lungs restricting. Hands trembling. Bloodstained hands. Falling and falling and falling and falling._

"Kid? You're really starting to scare me," Tony says, immediately drawing his hand back. 

"I can't get it off, Mister Stark," Peter tries to explain, pushing his hands towards his mentor's chest, refusing to touch. He pushes himself into a sitting position, breaths coming faster as the black hole tugs at his heart again.

"Can't get what off, Pete?" Tony asks, eyes wild with his worry.

"The blood!" Peter cries, tears pricking at his scared bambi eyes. "I can't get the blood off. It doesn't come off!" 

_Peter's 13 and it's been 6 months since Ben. He's in the shower, fingernails bloody. This time it's his own blood. Scratching and scratching and scratching at his palms to rid himself of the murder that clings to his skin. His hands are bleeding, blood under his fingernails. At least it isn't Ben's anymore. But he's sure Ben's blood is mixed with his own somewhere. So he keeps scratching and scratching and scratching._

"There's no blood, Peter. There's no blood on your hands." Tony freezes at the analogy, suddenly understanding at least a little bit. "Is that why you have a black hole? Because you can't get the blood off?"

Peter nods quickly and then shakes his head. "Not just the blood. The boxes. They're locked but they're too full. Keeps trying to get out. Don't want it to get out. Can't let it out. Not fair. Tried to burn the boxes, but they won't go away."

There's a few moments of silence as Tony mulls over the information.

Finally, "The boxes in your head?"

Peter's eyes widen. Nobody's ever understood his word jumble. He tried to tell it to May when she demanded but she kept asking and didn't understand. He tried to explain it to Ned, but he just looked lost and tried to get him to explain again. Never understood. 

Peter nods quickly, not wanting to lose his grip on the understanding - _Ben understood. Ben always understood Peter's word jumble. Always did. Or at least he was really good at pretending he did._

"The boxes are too full and you can't get the blood off, so the black hole is trying to take you?" Tony recaps questioningly, not wanting to get this wrong.

Peter nods quickly.

_He's 14 and it's been almost 2 years. May's finally happy. Peter's not._

_Black holes sucking him in. He can barely resurface for more than a few hours before being sucked in again and it hurts and he's so tired. A tired that's bone-deep because it's more than not sleeping. He sleeps for hours but it never helps. Always tired._

_His aunt suggests therapy for whatever it is he's dealing with._

_He says his black hole can't be magically taken away._

_She looks at him funny. She doesn't understand. Nobody ever understands the black hole._

_May cuts her fingers while making dinner._

_Peter has a flashback that leads to a full blown panic attack._

_He can't tell her why._

_She suggests therapy again the next day._

_He says he's better. Just a bad week._

_She believes him. Doesn't bring it up again. Everybody has bad days._   
  


"We can fix this, buddy," Tony says. He sounds so confident that Peter could cry.   
  


_Peter didn't cry when Uncle Ben died. He was too far in shock to cry. He just sat there and screamed and then he went home and he showered for 2 hours._

_Peter didn't cry at Uncle Ben's funeral either. He had to be a strong shoulder for May._

_May said he could cry too. He didn't._   
  


"Really?" Peter sounds small. Too small.  
  


_Peter said the same thing when Ben explained what would be happening when he was 4._

_"You're going to have to stay with us for longer, sweetie. That's okay though because we make the best cookies together, right?" Ben had said, offering a watery smile to the kid who didn't understand what was happening._

_"Really?" Peter had sounded small. Too small. He didn't know what was happening, but he understood the body language._

_"Yeah. You're parents won't be coming back, but we'll take good care of you here."_

_Too bad Peter couldn't take care of Ben like Ben took care of him._

  
"Yeah, really. We can fix this. You just have to be open with me. You don't have to do this by yourself. I can help. I'll help you. It's going to be okay," Tony reassures, taking Peter's hand gently in his own. 

Peter nods quickly again, throwing his trust out. He would give Tony anything if it meant getting rid of the black hole inside him. 

Tony smiles as though Peter's already made amazing progress. "I love you, kiddo. We're going to figure this out."

_The last time Peter said that he loved someone was a few days before Ben died. He told them both he loved them. It had seemed insignificant at the time. Just words before bed. Words that were passed between them constantly._

_After Ben, Peter stopped saying it. May understood._

_They used Larb and kind words of endearment instead of love._

_Love made the black hole expand. Guilt eating at his mind. Loving meant losing back then._

"I love you too," Peter says.

This time it makes the black hole shrink into itself, weight lifting off his lungs, allowing him a proper full breath in. His hands feel clean as he grabs onto Tony's shirt and tugs himself into his hero's chest. His mind is quiet. 


	31. 31-Stars

Stars always look different when you're about to die.   
  
Peter would find himself sitting outside Mister Stark's door more often than not. He never had the courage to open the door or ask Friday to wake his mentor, so he relied on resting his back against the simple white door, listening to the steady heartbeat from just beyond the door until he got the courage to go home.

It was the perfect position to see out the window and watch the stars flicker into existence and slowly out of view as the sun would rise in the horizon. Peter always tried to mimic the stars in his everyday life. Most people would agree that he did a pretty good job at being just as vibrant and brilliant as the stars overhead.

Nights were long and Peter found himself staying up to the late hours, sometimes until the early hours. Days were long, but some days, Peter could barely leave his bed.

The clock is constantly ticking in the back of his mind. Reminding him of his dwindling time.

It's hard to sleep, when the reality of time running out is ever present.

It's another night like all the others.

Sitting with his back pressed up against his father-figure's door, focusing intently on listening to the even breaths coming from the sleeping man on the other side of the door. His heart had long since calmed from the erratic speed from earlier, but he isn't ready to move yet from outside Tony's bedroom door.

He shifts to get comfortable, stifling a yawn and tugging the sleeve's of the stolen MIT alumni sweater over his hands.

The unseen breathing shifts for a moment, speeding up and blankets shift, and then it falls back into the regular patterns once again.

Peter leans his head back against the door, allowing his lungs to match those of the man behind the door, letting his heartbeats slow to a normal pace once again.

His leg is beginning to cramp with how tight he's pressed himself against the door, but he doesn't mind too much. He runs a hand through his curls, pushing the mess away from his eyes, getting worse from the static in his hoodie sleeves.

A light smile touches his face as his eyes droop in exhaustion. It's already nearing three in the morning, and it's been a long time since he's slept well.

He stifles another yawn, forcing his tired eyes to stay open, training them on the perfectly silver doorknob. He knows he has to get home in the next two hours, or May will notice his absence when she leaves for work, but he can't convince his legs to work. 

He was told the story of when Steve Rogers was changed from the scrawny boy into the soldier. He was told about how Steve was worried for a long time that the serum might just wear off one day. That he'd be forced back into the tiny body of the asthmatic boy with the long list of issues that no one took seriously. That he'd be forced back to the way it was before everything.

Peter never thought it would happen to him.

Sure, he worried that one day his powers would diminish. He worried that he'd be forced to become Penis Parker again. (Although, technically he still is.) He worried he'd have to stop fighting crime and Queens would be wrecked with chaos when criminals realized no one was protecting the precious city. Of course, he worried.

But now, he's having trouble once again. His senses are still dialed up like always, but sticking to things requires more concentration, works less often. His spidey-senses are less predictable, getting him hurt more often on patrol. Wounds take too long to close up. He no longer sees the world in slow motion.

He tried to come to terms with it when it first started, three weeks ago.

Only recently did he realize the issue with what was happening.

The spider DNA was warped with his own. Intertwined. If the spider in him were to die, he had been worried he would die too.

_("Mister Bruce Banner, sir? I think I need your help."_

_"It's three in the morning, Peter."_

_"I think I might be dying.")_

Bruce came as quick as he could.

Turns out, Peter's smarts came in handy.

Peter was dying.

If the spider in him were to die, so would Peter.

And there's no way to save the spider in him. 

*

Nobody but Bruce and him know. Not May, not Tony, not even Ned.

Instead of preparing himself for the inevitable of death, he chose to sit outside Tony's door and listen to his father-figure's even breaths and steady heartbeat. At peace. This is how he'd like to die, except this would be an awful way to be found. He doesn't want people to grieve for him, though he knows it's impossible. May would fall apart.

_("You sure you're feeling okay, honey?"_

_"I'm fine, May. I promise."_

_"You look about as bad as you did after that Oscorp field trip."_

_"I'll be okay.")_

He knew the smart thing to do was to tell Tony, but what good would that do if Tony couldn't find a cure?

Tony would blame himself for the rest of his life if he were aware of what happened.

Instead, Peter sits outside Tony's door. Aware of the heavy lie between the two of them, but refusing to do anything about it.

*

Seconds move slowly, but before he knows it, it's already morning.

Sun rising over the horizon in the distance between the skyscrapers, moon still hanging in the sky as though it forgot it's stage cue to exit.

Peter yawns, listening intently to Tony begin to wake up on the other side of the door. Shifting blankets, stumbled footsteps, creaking closet doors, shower turning on, a door closing.

Finally, Peter drags himself to aching legs, head pounding in resistance to moving.

He rubs his eyes tiredly, making his way towards the elevators.

"Would you like me to inform Boss of your nightly adventures?" Friday asks. She asks this every time Peter spends the night outside Tony's bedroom.

"No, it's fine, Fri. Take me down to the main level." Peter's voice is wrecked. Hoarse and shaking. It's been a long time since he's felt particularly okay.

The elevator moves smoothly and Peter leans back against the wall behind him, taking in counted breaths to keep his heart under control.

_("Will I feel it when it happens?"_

_Bruce's face falls, sympathetic pain radiating off him. "I hope not, kid. I really hope not.")_

The elevator dings when it arrives to the main floor of the tower and Peter steps out into the lobby, thanking Friday.

He knows he looks out of place.

Everyone around him is dressed up in fancy, expensive clothing. Watches that cost more than his apartment does, suits and pant suits, pencil skirts, clacking heels, tapping dress shoes, briefcases, handbags, tight smiles, high buns, smell of expensive perfumes and colognes, not a thing out of place.

And then there's Peter. Messy curls, bags under bloodshot eyes, stumbling steps clad with fuzzy socks, hello kitty pajama bottoms, MIT hoodie, sweater paws, radiating with tired sadness, sniffling nose, stifled yawns, in desperate need for coffee and a taxi ride home from the long night.

And then he catches eyes with the one of the people he desperately did not want to see on this very morning.

Pepper Potts.

"What are you doing here, Peter? Shouldn't you be getting to school?" she says, a soft motherly tone taking over her normally professional voice.

Peter lets his chin fall to his chest, letting out a quiet sigh. "Please don't tell Mister Stark."

"Tony doesn't know you're here? When did you get here?" Pepper asks, tugging him off to a quiet section of the floor.

"Last night," Peter admits. He's not a good liar, especially to Pepper.

The woman sits him down on a couch in the break room area, sitting next to him with a soft puff of air. She smells like roses and laundry detergent. It sends a wave of exhaustion over the kid.

"You look like you haven't slept," Pepper points out, cupping Peter's face and running her soft thumb under Peter's eye. The kid subconsciously swoons into the touch.

"Haven't," Peter replies, shrugging halfheartedly. "Can you keep a secret, Miss Potts?"

"I told you to call me, Pepper, kid. And yes, I can, depending on what it is? Does Tony know?"

"No! And he can't know!" Peter exclaims, before shrinking back into himself. "I'm dying, Pepper."

It's weird to force the words into the air. They've been trapped inside his head for too long that they sound foreign coming out of his mouth.

Pepper wordlessly brings the kid into her body, squishing him in a much needed hug.

*

The thing about having a clock ticking down to your inevitable death and not know when it'll happen, means that every second feels wasted if it's not filled with living out the lasts of a bucket list.

_("Hey, Mister Stark?"_

_"What's up, Pete?"_

_"Instead of working, can we watch Star Wars again?")_

Peter makes sure to be even more of a ball of sunshine than usual, smiling more and helping more and talking more and hugging more. Just to make sure people knows he cared even though he won't be around for much longer.

_("May? I feel like I don't say it enough, but I really, really love you. And thank you for everything you've done for me."_

_"What's this about, Peter?"_

_"Just felt like you needed to know."_

_"I do, kid. I do. And I love you too.")_

Ned seems to have noticed a difference. Peter puts less effort into homework and more effort into making people happy at school. His grades are dropping but by bit. Not enough for teachers to really notice, but enough that Ned knows somethings up. Even Flash has been acting weird around him. Peter always replies with something nice instead of just ignoring Flash.

_("Hey! Penis Parker!"_

_"Hiya, Flash! How are you today?"_

_Flash looks absolutely stunned. "I'm, uh, I'm good, I guess..."_

_"What the hell, man?"_

_"I don't want him to feel guilty, Ned."_

_"If what? If you die?!"_

_"Nothing like that, Ned...")_

And he sits outside Tony's door at night, wishing he could explain the circumstances and let his mentor get prepared for the inevitable, but refusing to open the door let alone let the words escape his lungs.

*

It's a sunny Saturday morning, around noon when Peter wakes up.

And the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him everything he needs to know.

Today's the day.

Today's the last day.

Today's his death day.

And he knows exactly how he wants to spend it.

Ned picks up on the first ring, voice joyously coming through the phone.

"Hey, Peter! What's up?" Ned exclaims.

"Nothing really.I just woke up and I'm probably going to be spending the afternoon at the tower. Do you wanna come by the apartment tomorrow?" Peter asks. Peter won't be there anymore, but May's going to need a shoulder to cry on.

"Sure, man. I'll come around at noon with that LEGO set, yeah?"

"Sounds good! I, uh... I don't feel like I say it enough, but I, uh, I really do care about you, you know?"

There's a few moments of hesitation before Ned replies, "I know, Peter. You say it plenty. I care about you too."

*

As much as Peter wants to spend the night with May, Peter knows he can't burden May with watching him die like he will. Sure he doesn't want to burden Tony with it, but he's sure he can sneak off to some quiet section of the tower when it inevitably happens.

He says that he loves her about a thousand times to May before he ducks off into Happy's car, hoping that May will find the envelope he left on his bed in the morning and won't mourn him as much as he thinks she will.

Happy says hi and Peter makes sure to ramble happily about absolutely anything that crosses his mind, pretending he doesn't see the small smile that touches the driver's face.

It makes Peter feel more at peace with his inevitable fate. 

*

It's only late that evening, after a day filled with having fun with Mister Stark.

_("You hate doing the dishes, Pete."_

_"I know. I just worry you'll forget to do them, Mister Stark.")_

_("The Lion King? Again, kiddo?"_

_"Please! We haven't watched in forever!")_

_("You're more cuddly than you normally are, kid. Is everything okay?"_

_"Everything's great, Mister Stark. I just really like your hugs.")_

_("Please can we bake a cake, Mister Stark?"_

_"Those Bambi eyes don't work for everything, Mister Parker... Fine, but I'm blaming you if Pepper gets pissed.")_

_("Hey, Mister Stark? I just wanted to let you know, um... I just- I really do care about you, you know? In case anything happens... I just- I needed you to know- know that I really do care about you."_

_"Is something wrong, kiddo? What do you think's going to happen?"_

_"Just in case, Mister Stark..." The sniffle is poorly concealed._

_"Well, just in case, I care about you too, kid.")_

_*_

The stars shine bright overhead in a way that Peter always tried to mimic in his everyday life. Most people would agree that he did a pretty good job at being just as vibrant and brilliant as the stars overhead. 

Peter wonders if it'll be like those scenes in the movies. If Uncle Ben and his parents will show up in his last moments. If they'll say they love him and offer him their hands to lead him into whatever comes next.

He's not religious, but he believes in some higher power watching over them at least a little bit. 

He believes he's done enough good to deserve something good in whatever comes after. 

Peter's lying on the roof of the building, almost wishing Tony would go to sleep so he could sit in front of the bedroom door and listen to Tony's soft heartbeat put him into an eternal sleep, but on the other hand, he desperately does not want to have to do this alone. 

He counts the stars overhead instead of letting his brain wander any farther than it already has. 

He makes it to 32 before the door behind him opens. 

"Kiddo? What are you doing out here? It's a bit chilly," Tony calls out, approaching the boy cautiously. Peter immediately relaxes, seeking Tony's heartbeat out in the quiet of the night. 

"Wanted to see the stars," Peter explains halfheartedly. He knows it's going to happen sometime tonight. This will be it. He doesn't want to waste the last bit of time he's got.

Some part of him, shoved so far down inside him that he barely recognizes what it is. Anger. He's angry that somehow, after everything, he only got sixteen years of life to live. It's not fair, but there's nothing to do about it now.

"You see the stars every night as Spider-Man. What makes tonight special?" Tony questions, pausing for a moment before sitting down next to the teenager.

Peter sits up, but refuses to tear his eyes off the dark sky. He's glad there's not a lot of pollution disrupting the stars tonight. He feels like he deserves it. He's going to die, but at least he's got the stars and Tony as company. 

Peter doesn't respond, letting his eyes trace over the Orion constellation. When he was really little, his mom taught him some of the constellations on late nights where his dad was held up at work. They'd sit outside on a cute wooden bench, little Peter swaddled in a heavy hoodie and Iron Man pajama bottoms, and his mom would teach him the constellations in the sky.

"Stars always look different when you're about to die," Tony says, tipping his head up to see the stars as well. His face holds peace, but his eyes hold a nostalgic pain to them.

"When?" Peter sounds small.

_("When will you be back, Aunt May?"_

_"It's just a few hours, Peter. I'll be back before you know it.")_

"I couldn't see the stars, but Afghanistan. I dreamed about how beautiful the stars would be if I ever escaped," Tony says, soft voice almost getting lost in the breeze.

"Were you scared?" Peter asks. He feels at peace despite his failing healing factor desperately trying to piece his DNA back together as it gets torn apart.

"Course I was. I get scared all the time, kiddie. Just because we're superheroes, doesn't mean we don't get scared."

"I'm scared," Peter admits, refusing to take his eyes away from following the stars in the sky. The light is blurring through his unshed tears. 

_("I'm scared, Uncle Ben."_

_"You don't have to be scared, Peter. Everything's going to be just fine.")_

"Why?" Tony asks, eyes burning holes into Peter's head.

"Stars always look different when you're about to die."

Tony stops for a moment, head tipping to the side as he looks over Peter's perfectly healthy body. 

"You're too young to die," Tony finally says, as though it can fix everything.

Peter ignores it, finally looking over at Tony. "Can we sleep out here tonight?"

_("Momma? When's daddy getting back?"_

_"I don't know, sweetheart. He should've been back hours ago."_

_"Can we sleep out here tonight?"_

_"You sleep. I'll keep watch for you.")_

Tony doesn't respond, just shifts until the two are lying back on the roof, stars shining brightly above them. Peter curls tightly against Tony's chest, letting himself absorb his mentor's body heat. 

It's a thousand times better than sitting outside Tony's bedroom door. Now, he can feel every even breath, lifting his body gently ever time. Steady heartbeat lulling him into serenity.

"Tony?" Peter says. If Tony was surprised by the use of his first name, it didn't show. He simply hummed in response, the sound letting Peter's eyes fall shut. "I love you."

_("You don't have to be scared, Peter. I love you."_

_"I'll be back before you know it. I love you, Peter."_

_"You sleep, I'll keep watch for you. I love you, sweetheart.")_

"I love you too, kiddo... I love you too."

His parents died in the middle of the night, his uncle died at night, it only seemed fair for Peter to die at night too. 

Peter was always a star. Always shining, brilliant, light up the room smiles, contagious laughter, stumbling over his words while rambling about whatever excited him, just radiating pure joy and handing that light out to anyone in sight.

Tonight was different, but still a good different. At peace, slowly being lulled to sleep by the steady heartbeat of his father-figure, a soft smile touching his features, big Bambi eyes slipping shut, a peaceful serenity to him that he had never experienced before. 

Peter was always a star, and see, stars always look different when you're about to die. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof this was a rollercoaster from day one. (Though technically I'm already 19 days over when I was supposed to have finished) I think it was worth it.
> 
> I've got other fics if yall haven't read those yet. (Melancholy Hope. Glazed Eyes, Empty hearts. And my Spiderson Oneshot book (all on Wattpad tho I can put them on AO3 as well if you want))
> 
> Hope yall enjoyed!!! 
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Lyss


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